


Monster at the End of Our Tunnel

by PureAU



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Balthazar Lives, Because of Reasons, Bottom Castiel, Everybody Lives, Gabriel Lives, M/M, Mpreg, Possessive Behavior, Slow Build, Top Dean, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Universe Alterations, Wing Kink, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-29 20:31:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PureAU/pseuds/PureAU
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean was an average hunter, saving those who were accidentally introduced to the supernatural universe. However, he sees the end of his gruesome road into a normal life when he knocks up best-friend-savior-from-the-heavens Castiel in what he had thought was going to turn into an accidental one night stand.</p><p> With each party now forced into an obstacle coarse they never before had need to traverse; can Dean keep his growing family together and alive?</p><p> </p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Come one, come all!
> 
> I just wanted to note some layout before we delve in:  
> Long periods of time passed shall be indicated via two horizontal line breaks. Every five or so chapters I will recap the time changes just to ensure no one is left behind.  
> I will be altering some things we are used to in the Supernatural universe. Such as, bringing characters back that have already died or changing attributes of non-mortal beings. This is not completely AU but some things are changed.
> 
> This is a WIP therefore be aware that I may re-read a chapter and alter it. If one is altered significantly I will warn you.
> 
> I leave you to it then:

 The feel of skin on skin, soft pants and pleasured gasps, all of it was just a whim. Anything that could squirm beneath him would have sufficed; a local girl from a bar, a tip out at the strip club. It just happened that Castiel was the nearest warm body and Dean needed it bad. Dean knew that what they had done was wrong. That even thinking about it now was just disgusting. For the almighty God's sake, he had fucked an angel – a guy angel. But what was he supposed to do? Go back in time and fix it?

  The pent up frustration got the best of him this time, so what if this was the only way he could think to get rid of it. Lots of people engaged in animalistic, no-strings-attached, sex.

 He knew Castiel did not deserve that sort of fling; it was on the forefront of his mind. Cas hadn't known that the taunts and teases that he was unintentionally doing would cause the Winchester to lose any bit of restraint. Who stands that close to someone if they do not want to fuck it out? The angel was practically breathing down his neck the whole time he was talking to Sam.

 "Cas, what did I do to you?" slowly, Dean sucked in a shallow breath. He had to hold up for Cas's sake. That's all he was good for now. No chick flick moments, no regrets, just regular talking and explaining. This was Castiel, angel of the Lord, he would understand.

 Tracing Cas's hip tentatively, Dean could make out dark purple bruises even through the grim darkness. Feeling further up the angel's torso, Dean could feel harsh fingernail imprints, could see distinct bruising all along his chest, even a few bite marks. Saying he was repulsed by himself was an understatement, he was utterly appalled. Worst yet, he could not get mad at Castiel, the angel was just too blameless, this was all on him.

 What will Sammy think? I just took advantage of our… my angel.

 "Dean..." sleepily Castiel mumbled into the inky black room , gazing up into Dean's haunted, brooding expression, "What is the matter?" bright sapphire eyes filled with concern, eyes brows furrowing in genuine confusion as he pulled off the lost puppy look. A look that screamed I am here to listen. Dean had to bat the dirty thoughts that barked at him with ways of turning that face into a much more blissful one.

 "Cas... I'm so sorry, Castiel," Dean croaked out, his moss green eyes filled with pure remorse. Peering down into the angel's half-lidded, sleep hazed eyes, he knew now would be the best time to talk about it for their sake. Cas probably would not remember it in the morning any way if it was anything like half of the women he fucked to oblivion. It was worth a shot.

 And if he did remember, well this was worth any smite to come; to see Castiel in this vulnerable state, to feel normal. Like a couple of teens afraid of getting pregnant because they did not have a condom. Dean’s stomach flipped a little at the thought, asking his brain if he should keep down the couple beers he had managed for dinner.

 "Do you remember?" even though Dean's gruff voice quivered, he still held up. Castiel slowly, cautiously sat up on his elbow as though the movement may scare away Dean. With his other hand Castiel stroked Dean's cheek softly, reassuringly. He was desperately trying to convey the message that everything was going to be perfectly alright.

 "Yes, we engaged in sexual activities," white teeth showed through plump lips as they stretched into an unsure smile. Castiel was being very tentative, something extremely human to Dean. It was slightly unnerving to witness how he has changed over the years, but he found it a bit endearing.

 "Leave it to an angel to make it sound unfun," Dean bantered lightly, normal shit eating grin in place

 "Unfun is not even a word, Dean. That is improper English,” Cas thought about offering some suggestions, but took instead to staring lightly at the blanket. A comfortable silence fell over the room leaving the boys feeling warm and homely even in the shady motel room. The hunter and angel looked up to softly stare at one another unconsciously shifting closer.

 Uncertainly, the boys pressed their lips together. The kiss showed just how scared they were to lose one another. It lasted only seconds but it felt like an eternity. A life time of unbidden emotions was poured into that minuscule period of time. Things that could not be said aloud were shared through one gesture. It lit a flame within both bodies they did not care to lose.

 "Dean..."

 "Whatever happens, Cas, I still love you. Whether it is like this," he placed another peck on the angel's sinfully inviting lips as a point, "or like another brother."

 "You took the words from my mouth."

 Doubt still filled the room as the two fell into a light sleep tangled in each other’s limbs.  It all was just seemed like desperate love. Two broken boys - fallen and scathed – clinging to one another all because the other was the only life line in sight. But, both realized just how deep they had it in for one another. They were prepared for a long life of late night pillow talks and cuddles for the rest of their lives if the other would graciously allow it.

* * *

* * *

 "Dean! Wake up, I think I found a le-" the younger Winchester cut his sentence short with a smirk, "Well, I'll be damned."

 The scene in front of him sketched a picture of love at its finest. Dean lay on his back, a cream colored sheet covering his lower regions in the all the perfect places. Shadows whisked their way up the hunters muscled chest to play in the dips and curves between his body and the sheets. A very dead to the world Castiel lay snuggled into his side, entangling their hands on top of the hunter's chest. His hair splayed across the pillow much like dark halo, fine morning stubble gave him a rugged look. Soft morning sun bathed the couple in a warm amber glow; their chests rose and fell in flawless rhythm. Sam smiled softly at the two for a minute or so before Dean stirred and sat up. Much to the younger brother’s disappointment, the look on his brother’s face when he realized they were not alone was not of contentment but was of attrition.

 "Sam, I... uh..." Dean trailed off looking from Castiel to his brother and back to Castiel. Not sure if he should wake the angel or bolt out of the room or both.

 "Hey, hey, hey. Don't worry about it. It's not like I'm gonna disown you for being... gay?" the other hunter finished questioningly. Was his bother really gay after all that sleazing around with women? Was this a fling? Maybe Castiel just crawled into bed with Dean after a long night. That last one seemed a bit unreasonable. The angel didn’t even need to sleep after a long night.

 "Whoa dude, I am not... gay," the oldest Winchester dragged the word out as though he was testing it. The low talking seemed to awaken Castiel as the angel sat up and pawed at his eyes closely resembling a toddler.

 "What is this all about?" Castiel questioned the two men in a sleep ruffed voice. He glared softly and pulled the sheets more towards him, this whole waking up thing sucked on so many levels.

 "Well, Sammy knows about our toss in the sheets," Dean looked toward Cas timidly, afraid of what the heavenly being may say. That may be the one thing to finally break the ruse; the weeks had been nice.

 "So, your poi-" deep blue eyes widened in pain as he rushed to the bathroom. Dean shot up after him, pulling on boxers and a t-shirt as he went.

 "Cas? Castiel? Are you alright?" a cool hand laid upon his sweating back as he vomited up nothing. Dean felt fear nudge its way up his throat, constricting the muscles and causing ice to flow through his veins. What has he done?

 Pulling away from the toilet, the divine being glanced up into perturbed emerald green eyes with a look of pure terror, "I believe something is wrong here."

 "You think?" Dean practically growled out. He glared daggers into the back of Cas’s head. Dude had to learn to elaborate more in certain situations.

 "Dean, come on!" Sam snapped at his brother. The youngest wrapped Castiel in one of the cheap sheets from the bed, blushing when he found Cas was completely unfazed by his nude state. The angel was shivering lightly grasping at his stomach at nausea radiated through his body. He felt dizzy and like he may dry heave again.

 Each male glanced at one another in turn as the same thought ran through their heads.

 "This can't be what I think it is, could it?"

* * *

 

 Dean’s hunched over figure paced the dingy hotel room in worry and frustration. He could hear soft murmuring from behind the door across from him and flinched at the distressed whine that could only be Castiel. What the hell was Sam doing back there?

 Dean stared at the door, attempting to light it on fire when Sam slowly opened it. "Calm down, man. What's with the intense staring? Trying to become Cas?" the younger Winchester took a step back when he saw the look on his brother's face. Dean glanced apologetically toward his brother as he tried to step into the bathroom. He needed to get to his angel; he needed to know what was wrong and he needed to know now. For all he knew he had just crossed the finish line in getting Cas’s angelic superiority ripped from him and he was slowly dying inside.

 "Oh no you don't!" Sam grabbed the hunter by the jacket and steered him away from the adjoining room. The young hunter looked down at him softly, eyes radiating compassion and empathy. Dean was practically bathing in the emotions. Groaning, Dean glared at the taller man, trying very hard not to turn and bloody his nose for stopping him. "Is he okay? Will he be okay? What's going on?"

 Sam sighed as he led Dean over to his bed. Sitting eye to eye, the older hunter could see the stern, I-won’t-tell-you-all-riled-up, look on his brother's face. Finally, he took in deep breath after deep breath before relaxing in his brother's grip. The younger smiled slightly, sadly, as he let go of Dean. He glanced towards the bathroom door for a long moment before meeting Dean’s eyes once more.

 "He's fine and I think he'll be fine. Cas is just in a lot of pain right now. What I don't know is why this is happening."

 Throwing his hands up in irritation Dean began to pace the room again. Sam's green eyes followed his every movement making sure he stayed far from the bathroom. No need to disturb the angel in a time of weakness like this. Sighing in defeat the older Winchester sat back down across from his worried brother.

 "Sammy, it's all my fault."

 Sam huffed quietly at the nickname, now just was not the time, "It isn't your fault," large hands rubbed at Dean's biceps in a comforting manner. He patted his brother’s shoulder before settling his hands in front of him. The older hunter looked at Sam dubiously.

 "If it wasn't for me, Cas wouldn't be like this! What if he's... if he's... that," Dean growled out the last of his sentence. His hands became to sweat as he clenched his fingers, really wanting to punch something, someone, "Son of a bitch!"

 "Dean, if you will, please be quiet. I have a terrible headache," Cas whined as he half leaned against the wall half stumbled out of the bathroom clothed only in the sheet Sam had given him. He looked so sick and frail under the huge mass of the cover. It was as if they had engulfed him, ready to swallow him up and take him away for good. The older Winchester decided he hated the look immediately.

 "You okay man?" Dean helped the angel over to the plush bed deciding to rid the angel of the cover. The hunter rummaged around in his duffle bag for a bit. He pulled out one of his old t-shirts and a pair of boxers. Sauntering back over to Castiel he held out the two pieces of fabric mumbling that they'd be more comfortable than his suit.

 Smiling softly the angel took them gratefully and slipped on the clothing. Castiel offered Sam a small smile asking for a bit of privacy in order to speak with his brother. Without a word the Winchester hurried out the door with Dean's keys. Midmorning sun illuminated the dusty room and the notice of the dark shadow of gloom that had settled over the three boys before the light had seeped through became apparent to the hunter. With a nod of his head, Dean decided to open the blinds and bask in the dwindling October warmth found there.

 "So, talking?" Dean smiled as he looked over at Cas. The angel continued to look scarily more human and human as he lay sprawled on the bed in Dean's far too large garments. His hand slowly ran up and down his stomach playing casually with the hem of the t-shirt. For once a fully relaxed look graced his chiseled features as he slowly looked toward Dean, humming quietly. Dean found himself gazing a little too long at his angel, man was he starting to go soft or…

 "Yes, about what is going on," Castiel started slowly almost as if he thought the conversation would have the hunter jump out of the window and run for the hills. The look in his eye spoke those same words as he met Dean’s steady gaze. He could take it. He would listen to whatever the angel said and he would be perfectly okay with it. They were in this together.

 Dean sat next to the divine being. He gazed levelly into the ocean of the other's eyes, his jaw set and mouth slightly tilted up. "Alright, let's get talking then." Cas's eyes lit up when the okay was given; he was really going to give it thought, say it perfectly. Sitting up, the angel brought his knees up to his chest and rested his chin upon them now playing with the fray of the comforter.

 "It may be an odd question to ask, but at any point in the last few weeks have you used a condom?” Cas tilted his head to the side in a gesture of pure innocence when his fingers lightly quoted the word condom. Dean groaned at the inquiry before laying a hand on the angel’s head and tousling the already messy locks.

 "Cas, man, you are not a chick. That doesn't have anything to do with whatever this is. There is no way in Hell I could have gotten you knocked up."

 "Quite the contrary actually; I can still get 'knocked up'," the angel used over dramatic air quotes as he said the two offending words, "It is just a little different from when it happens to humans."

 "Do tell," Dean mocked as he threw up his hands in an exasperated manner.

 Cas frowned at the hunter's behavior before continuing, "Since I am an angel of the Lord, I am really gender less although I am considered male thanks to my vessel. This said I can conceive without my vessel being female if it is the right person."

 "So you're saying I am the one?”

 "In a way, yes, I always have said you and I share a profound bond. I’ve touched your soul, Dean. I raised you from Hell and looked after you. My claim is on you as well as in me."

 "This sounds like some sort of fucked up chick flick!" Dean whined as he stood from the bed and stood next to the window once more. The sun’s rays, sweet caresses on heated skin, made him look beautiful to the angel lounging on the bed. His aesthetic looks making him seem a mirage, that there was no way he was here with the likes of Castiel.

 "Why are you referencing movies at a time like this, Winchester?"

 Dean peered at Castiel through the corner of his eye. Noticing an out of place emotion of hurt on the seraph's face caused the blonde to immediately move to his side. Plump lips lightly grazed Cas's brow asking for forgiveness that was quickly accepted through a lean into the gentle, fragile gesture.

 "I just... Castiel, are you? Can it happen that fast?"

 Eyes, set ablaze by pure regret, closed in tired submission. A shaky breath left his chapped lips as he searched for the correct words; the words that would not send the man next to him running. This is not how he wanted this to go, to be done. He wanted them to be happy about this. It did not happen often after all. They were special; Dean was making this out to be quite the opposite.

 "With the way my vessel works, it can. It would accelerate how quickly the… sperm reached its destination. Put into consideration how strong our bond is, it happens much quicker than with a human female. But I can safely assume we have been together intimately close to eight weeks. We may not have been together often but it is enough.”

 A nervous laugh left the older Winchester's lips right next to Cas's ear. Strong arms snaked them self around the angel's lean torso and held him close to the warm, strong chest behind him, "Castiel, whenever you are ready, you find out. M'kay?" The angel cuddled into the warmth of the other body almost stealing it all away. This explained the human gestures; Cas was really just becoming a girl. Dean smiled softly at the thought of a pretty girl Castiel all bundled up next to him. However, God just would not give him a break today forcing painful realization to kick in that the angel next to him was pretty but a guy.

 "If I am to find out, I will need to go back to Heaven," Cas mumbled offhandedly jutting Dean out of his thoughts and back to the real world, "Why?" Dean inquired as he stroked the thick brown locks distractedly. Castiel arched into the soft petting, searching for more. He could get used to this affection, it was comforting and homely. It screamed Dean.

 "To be examined. I suppose I could call one of my brothers down here. Although I do not know how well you will enjoy that," Dean groaned at the statement before laying his head on Castiel's shoulder; he continued to tell himself all the gestures where to keep Cas in a happy state and not for his own enjoyment. Considering he could obviously tell how well the angel took to the light touches.

 "Which feathery asshole this time?"

 "I would prefer someone of the likes of Gabriel or Balthazar. Although a number of my brothers or sisters would be happy to oblige."

 Dean's head shot up at the mention of the trickster. He really did not want to deal with that little shit right now. But he was already in a jumpy mood, just might as well throw in Gabe.

 "Now should I go back to heaven or call them here?" Castiel asked softly turning to look at Dean fully in the face.

 "Call Gabe down. Sam will be all well...Sam… if we don't let him see the son of a bitch. I’m going to hop in the shower you sit tight," the Winchester sauntered back over to his opened duffle grabbed one of his few outfits and made his way over to the bathroom clicking the door shut quickly.

 "Now why would he jump around in the shower?" Cas muttered to himself shaking his head. Human customs could really get to him some times. Once the angel was over the phrase he prayed softly to Gabriel, asking for his immediate assistance although he did not really believe it would bring him there any quicker.

 "What is it, little bro?" A blonde man with a very shady smirk swaggered over to the angel on the bed. He grabbed him up in a warm bear hug squeezing ever so softly.

 "Gabriel, I need you to check if I have conceived a child or not," Cas stated bluntly causing his brother to sputter and choke. Gabe looked at him in disbelieve for a moment before pulling away from Castiel entirely.

 "So you finally did it, huh," Gabriel's smirk got all the more larger, "lay down dear brother."

 Castiel did as he was told, laying belly up on the scratchy mattress. He stared at the ceiling waiting for Gabriel to do something. Finally the archangel sat on the bed and many moments of awkward groping later the blonde pulled back with a loving grin on his face.

 "Castiel, it's your lucky day."

 "You mean?"

 "Yup," the grin got larger.

 "Son of a bitch!" a loud crack was heard as both angel's where alerted to the human standing with the bathroom door wide open, a crack now running from the nob up the cheap wallpaper. His face was livid and his eyes full of shame. Gabriel stood slightly in front of his brother in case he ended up needing to suppress some surprise attack, watching as the hunter stalked towards the outside door.

 "Dean wait, please!" Cas cried out in vain, but it was too late, Dean's form was already blurred by the distance between them.


	2. Chapter 2

Blue eyes brimmed with uncontrollable tears. He had just walked out, stalked off without any warning. Gabriel made a mistake. This couldn’t be happening. Dean should be ecstatic, not angry. This was some prank he was pulling and Castiel was going to kick his ass for it.

 He knew none of this was Gabriel’s fault; his own maybe? He wasn’t pretty enough for Dean. Maybe it’s all because he’s not human. Or because he did not understand anything the hunter said. Or maybe because he had a male vessel and Dean just didn’t swing that way.

 "Castiel?" a soft voice questioned beside him. It did not hold the constant sarcasm or snark of Gabriel's tone but it was not foreign. "What Sam?" he spoke just above a whisper trying and failing to not fall apart. The disappointment, the sorrow, the hurt that was evident pained the young hunter. Already Castiel had given up and Sam was not going to stand by and watch.

 "I spoke to Dean on my way in. He told me what is going on. Congrats," Sam smiled sadly when the tears in Cas's eyes swelled to spilling over. Sam sat next to the seraph, wrapping his arm around the other’s shoulders. Boy did his brother do a number on this one, "Cas... Dean isn't walking out on you. Just, this is all so sudden. He does not know how to deal with it and needs some air, okay?"

 The angel slowly shook his head in distant understanding. If Dean needs time, he needs time; Cas isn't going anywhere anytime soon. But, some things never left your mind. What if this happens again? What if he is left all alone on this one?

 "He looked angry, broken and seething in rage. It is my fault; I shouldn't have ever become attached."

 "He loves you."

 "Excuse me?" Cas looked at the younger Winchester as though he had sprouted two heads. Sam smiled fondly and moved to face the angel properly.

 "Dean... He may not say it but he loves you... a lot. I've seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is looking. He talks about you none stop to the women he tries to hook up with now a days and ends up never getting laid. And the way he defends you? Cas, I’d think he is a lawyer,” Sam smiled knowingly, hazel eyes brightening at the look of pure joy written on the angel’s face. 

 A huff came from the corner of the room making Sam almost jump out of his skin, "Hello to you to Sammy," the mentioned man's eyes made his way over to a small blonde form that seemed mildly out of place. He was a bit unnerved that he did not notice him there before now, “It’s nice of you to defend your bro and everything but I think I might have to tear him a new one.” The archangel wrapped himself up in between the two occupants of the bed, leaning both of them closer to him with soft warm hands.

 "G-Gabriel? Uh, hey," the young hunter tinged a slight pink at his pathetic response but managed a huge grin, "G-good to see you!"

 Gabriel chuckled at the sight before him as he nested himself into Castiel’s bed side, "Long time no see.”

 Sam laughed lightly looking up towards Gabriel, “I really thought you meant you weren't coming back for good that last time.” Sam smirked when it was the archangels turn to blush lightly.

 "Can't get rid of me that easy!" Gabe released his captives, giggling like a school girl before leaning over and whispering, "We should get out of here before your brother returns. I don't wanna be in the line of fire."

 Sam nodded in agreement, grabbed his jacket, and told Cas they'd be back shortly. Castiel somberly nodded in response before lying down fully on the bed, face buried deep in the pillows.

 "You're sure it's just okay to leave him there?"

 "Not at all, but my brother can hold his own."

 The two men became lumps in the distance. A heavy gloom settled over the angel as he attempted to gain control over his foreign emotions. He stood slowly making his way to the single window. The angel stared hard in the direction Dean had gone, hoping to see him come bounding back over the slight curve of the hill. When he did not, a single sob escaped clenched lips before his knees gave way to soft carpet. His long, thin arms wrapped around a shuddering torso as though they could keep the parts of him the needed to stay up securely in place. One after another hot searing tears fell from tightly closed eyelids onto the black tee he dawned. Soon enough the sobs quieted down to hiccups; that's when Castiel noticed he was not alone.

 Two strong arms scooped the figure off the floor and cradled him to his chest. Piano fingers grasped at the shirt in front of them, holding his shivering body to the stable pillar before him. Sweet nothings where whispered into his hot ear and chaste kisses where placed around his face. The moment he inhaled he knew who it was and he was not prepared to let go anytime soon.

 "I did not mean to make you cry," the voice that spoke, however, was not strong. It was raw and hoarse, tired and resigned; it was everything the man in front of Cas should not be. The strong body before him was devoid of warmth and comfort but instead screamed, I need the things you are not capable of giving to me right now, I need the same warmth and comfort that you, too, are lacking. A few more tears ran down his face again at the prospect that neither of them was fully capable of grasping this information fully. They were even more broken, even more dysfunctional than before.

 "Dean..." the cracked whisper shattered into the silence of the room as soft lips met and consoled one another. The kiss was sweet; it spoke the words the angel and hunter would have never been able to find. It spoke of devotion and apology, loyalty and forgiveness. It told how they were in this together, whether they liked it or not, may as well stay for the cake.

 "A baby... I'm going to have a baby..." the statement needed no responding words as the older Winchester laid his forehead upon the divine beings. Both smiled softly at one another when Dean laid his hand on Castiel's taut stomach.

 "Yes, yes you are."

 Dark eyebrows knitted together when he noticed the deep frown on the hunter's face. Dean's eyes slowly met Cas's and he noted the fear within the green orbs. Castiel lightly touched his face, coaxing an answer from him with no words, "Cas, we are hunted almost every day, what if this just doesn't work? What if something happens? There are things that would love to rip us apart slowly and they would kill one another to have at our kid."

 "I will protect the child with my life. We will make this work," determination set in on Castiel's face as he lent back from Dean's embrace, "Nothing will harm him or her," the other male smiled slightly at the mother bear behavior Castiel was displaying.

 "What if this isn't right for us?"

 "It must be. It happened did it not? We take whatever is thrown at us without looking back.”

 "Right," Dean motioned for Castiel to follow him back to the bed before plopping himself down, "Then I suppose we should look for a place to stay. No need for eyebrows being raised at a pregnant dude. This is like a definite thing, right?”

 The angel rolled his eyes fondly and smiled, “Yes, Dean. The child is not going to crawl out of me anytime soon. And we really do not need to worry, I can conceal the child.” Cas rubbed at his belly, wondering how little he knew about angelic pregnancies and locking it away to for a Gabriel based interrogation.

 Dean huffed from the bed, “No way, babe. I want to see some pregnant belly. Besides, where are we gonna stash the kid? A motel room?”

 Hours of house shopping on Sam's laptop later, both the mentioned and Gabriel walked through the door. Cas lay situated between Dean's opened legs with his head pillowed on the hunters chest and the laptop sitting on his closed legs. Dean's arms where snug at Cas's sides as he typed and clicked on different web pages as his chin lay securely on Castiel's shoulder. It was hard to tell if they had melded into one being or not.

 "Well, well, hello boys!" the blonde angel crooned as he waved over dramatically. Both Dean and Cas grunted in acknowledgement at which Sam broke out in a grin. Gabriel stuck his tongue out at being barley acknowledged and plopped down next to the couple, pillowing his cheek on Castiel’s shoulder.

 "What'cha doin' with my laptop?" the owner of said appliance asked uninterestedly before switching on the TV and looking through research papers for their current hunt.

 "Looking at houses, apartments and the like," Dean mumbled into Castiel's hair as he looked at a nice little apartment complex not far from Bobby's place, "I figured if I am having a kid, it and Cas would need a good home that wasn't Bobby's." Cas pointed at the kitchen and smiled tiredly, he could really dig that kitchen.

 "Fair enough. Anyway, Gabe said he'd be happy to help on this hunt so you and Cas could discuss what's going on," Gabriel smiled proudly at being able to be an asset to the hunt. He contemplated how many secrets adoring looks he could throw at Sam before he noticed on a job.

 "Yeah? That's good, could always use the help," Dean replied distractedly, "Can you use a gun?"

 Gabriel pouted at the question, "Yes, I can but I have my own super abilities, you know." He stressed this fact by conjuring up a sucker and staring pointedly at Dean.

 "Just take a gun, too.” Sam smiled lightly at the conversation, knowing that Dean cared whether the angel got hurt or not even if he made it sound like all he cared about was the hunt.

 "Fine! I'll take a stupid gun." Gabe switched the focus from him, sticking out his lounge and pointing to Cas. Looking down, Dean noticed the divine’s dropping eyelids. Smiling softly, the Winchester moved the laptop over to the bedside table and sat back on the headboard allowing Cas to recline further in a laying position, head buried in Dean's lap.

 Resting his own eyes shut, the hunter had the fleeting thought that they were like one big family before dropping off into a deep sleep.

* * *

* * *

 

 Dean woke to soft humming. The warm kind, thick as honey and sweet as syrup, that made you just want to curl back further into the sheets and sleep. It reminded him of a home, dusty and worn with years of life under its roof. He laid further back into the pillows sighing contently. The humming ceased for a minute, debating whether it was safe to continue. Evidently deciding that it was, the humming started again as a soft gurgle then claimed its earlier life, a throaty sort of thrumming.

 The hunter smiled softly finally awake enough to place a tune and voice. He could hear the click of the keyboard being pressed upon, the quiet muttering of the morning news. More distinctly he could pick out the soft purring of Hey Jude near his ear; could feel the soft, warm weight of the body to his left.

 “Who taught you that one?” Dean ground out through his gruff sleep laden voice. He felt rather than saw the angel turn his head back towards him just as he felt those blue eyes bore into his skin until he opened his own eyes.

 Cas turned his head back towards the laptop in front of him. He had borrowed it this morning from Sam to look at a few houses in Bobby’s area, “I remember your mother singing it to you when you were very young. I like it so I figured the baby must like it too.” Dean smiled at this revelation, enjoying the prospect of Castiel always being there. No matter how creepy that sounded.

 “Babies got good taste then, huh?” he questioned, rubbing his hands over Cas’s now slightly pudgy belly. It had only been eight weeks since they had found out the news of the pregnancy but boy was the angel starting to fill out… very early for being a novice as they had discovered. Dean was starting to feel grateful that they kept Gabe around to answer questions such as those; it was like having their own personal walking baby book.

 The couple had extensively questioned Gabriel over angelic pregnancies after reading a bit on their own. Considering he had been there for the birth of many an angel, it was a good figure that he could be of major help. They had learned the swell of human emotion in the beginning came from estrogen attacking his system all at once to compensate for his bodies lack thereof. Which lead to the discussion of, ‘Cassie will also feel the pain and uncomfort a woman would in her second through third trimester… tenfold… and much earlier’. But for now, it was all fatigue and throwing up excessive amounts. No pain, no weird cravings (although Dean was positive Cas dipped his burger in a milkshake) and absolutely no mood swings.

 Castiel did not seem to appreciate the thought of gaining any weight at all. He especially did not enjoy when Gabriel informed him that he could not always eat burgers, the babe needed some sort of nourishment and yes that meant drinking water too. It sufficed to say that the angel had managed to consume twice his weight in burgers that night before decided to fast for the next nine months. He had not even looked at a burger twice since then.

 Dean ran his hands once more over Cas’s swell before he kicked his legs over the size of their king sized mattress and stood. He looked around momentarily for his boxers, not minding the way the cool air of the motel clung to his skin in the sticky August heat. Castiel looked up momentarily, met Dean’s bare ass, and quickly looked back at the computer screen. The hunter quirked an eyebrow at him as he pulled the cloth up his legs and slipped on a shirt, “Cas, you should be used to this by now.”

 “I should be, but I am not,” the angel grumbled back staring intently at the screen. His eyes lit up as he looked over the information for a beautiful Victorian style home that he figured needed a good refurbishing, “Dean, how do we plan on paying for housing?” he asked softly, smiling at the little house.

 Dean chewed on the thought for a bit. He often thought of the many ways he could illegally pay for the house but always ended with the conclusion that, that was no way to raise a child, “Odd jobs, most likely. Sammy and Gabe can handle hunting together for a while. Figure they’d like that arrangement anyway, things with them are getting a little weird,” Cas smiled a bit at that, “I could probably get a job as a mechanic and hunt locally for a while now that I think about it.”

 “I think that is the best way to go, Dean,” the angel’s lips parted in a huge grin. Dean’s own lips parted in the same fashion when he bent to peck his other half on the lips. Castiel lent in gently just as Dean was pulling back. The hunter snorted, pecking his angel softly on the lips a few more times just as he liked and announced the need for them to shower.

 Dean let the water run through the tap until it was so hot the entire bathroom was filled with steam. Cas was rubbing some of it off of the mirror from where he sat on the cheap fake wood counter top. It was obvious that he was attempting to look at his stomach no matter how hard he tried to hide his intentions. The blond often caught him doing this, although Castiel would play it off like he was doing no such thing. It was oddly cute to the Winchester

 The angel muttered something about the water being so warm that it would scorch their skin just as Dean was fixing the temperature. He laughed softly while he shed his dirty shirt and boxers. Kindly he helped the angel out of the shirt he had stolen from Dean and briefs that could probably use an extensive washing. Really, the angel needed to buy more than the underwear he had begun with. It was probably time they went out for a thrift store shopping spree.

The couple stepped under the almost boiling stream of water. Whatever Dean’s obsession with sweltering showers was, Castiel was desperate to find out and put an end to. Every time he left the shower he was red as a lobster and it was not from the mind boggling sex they managed to have in the tiny baths.

 He scowled lightly at the wall, wondering if Dean would notice if he used telekinesis to make the water bearable for himself. The angel decided it was just not worth it and relaxed his back further into Dean’s chest. The hunter snaked his arms around Cas’s midsection, his hands rubbing lovingly over his soft pregnant belly. Castiel did not mind the affection Dean constantly showed his stomach. He clearly understood the paternal need to be close to what is and would be his. However, the angel could not understand the continuous worship their unborn child received on Dean’s part. It was normal for Castiel to always have his hands on his swell; but Dean? The angel almost put it down as yet another obsession.

 “You’re so beautiful, Castiel,” Dean slurred offhandedly into Cas’s unruly wet hair. Castiel turned in his embrace, catching his lips in a sweet kiss. He nuzzled his head under the hunter’s chin before cracking a tiny smile, “You are the beautiful one here, Dean Winchester,” the angel spoke back, using his full name as a retaliation of the use of his own.

 Dean lifted Cas’s face towards him, admiring his lovers mixture of soft and hard features. He captured the other’s lips in a hard kiss that threw all the affection and trust he had for the other into one big pot of ‘I love you’. Castiel tangled his hands through the hunter’s hair as he tilted his head for better purchase on his lips. The hunter’s hands dropped down to hold his hips possessively.

 Dean nipped at the angel’s chapped lips. Castiel opened almost immediately for the blond's tongue to invade his mouth. The slippery appendage brushed and lapped at his teeth and gums, coming down for short damce with the timid tongue that called that mouth home. Slowly it coaxed the other to tangle with it in a slow dance of passion that had the angel gasping excitedly in the hunter’s mouth. Cas placed his hand over the print on Dean’s bicep and grabbed lightly at the strong muscle he found there. Dean pulled off slowly, resting his forehead against Castiel’s as he smiled down at wide blue eyes.

 “What do you say we get out of here?” Castiel thought he never nodded so quickly in his life. The warm water was beginning to make him feel faint and he could use some of the stale motel air-conditioning.

 After both boys had dried off and dressed they laid spooned on the creaky bed looking through more houses after bookmarking the one Castiel was claiming to be ‘The one, Dean.’ Dean had already decided if they ended up with the Victorian he was going to spend many hours repainting the son-of a- bitch. He desperately hoped the angel could find a house that was perfect as it was, although he may be able to talk the real-estate agents to a lower price if he had to fix it up.

 The hunter and angel shared a long, lazy kiss; content to slowly lap at one another’s mouths. Soon enough they abandoned the house shopping to heavy petting and a long afternoon of drawn out moans and sated gasps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What even are chapter endings? They make me want to tear my hair out.
> 
> I'm thinking this one will go a little slower than a written sex scene off the bat, helps give the story a bit of dignity, don't you think? Also drag it out a bit more, but mostly give it some modesty. No reason to throw naughty bits out there yet.
> 
> I think I have some good ideas on the new baby, I don't have a name or gender but I figure when the time comes you lovely people would enjoy some say.


	3. Chapter 3

To say the house was movie material was going a bit overboard in Dean’s opinion; Sam seemed to stand by the point that it was probably portrayed in every family friendly American film in existence. Its wrap around porch was adorned with cute outside furniture accompanied by small pots of flowers and little sculptures here and there. Mini flags and pinwheels resided in the garden below the porch, spinning happily in the wind. The flaky white paint flowed well with the navy blue trimming and the burgundy pigment of the door. Maybe it was a bit too moviesque.

 Dean noted the intricate designs of the gremlin door knocker before he pounded roughly on the door. The older couple who was selling the house had requested they meet the potential buyers to make sure they found the rightful new fit. Castiel found it sweet how they wanted to meet them, while Dean found it a huge nuisance. What if they were denied the house because of their relationship?

 “Oh, hello!” a grandmotherly woman answered the door decked out in a floral patterned cardigan that sickened the hunter but made him want to embrace her at the same time. He forced a smile when his angel introduced each of them respectively. Castiel shot a warming glare at Gabriel when the archangel smirked and purred at the woman causing her to send a dirty look his way and clear her throat. “Ah yes, the nice man I spoke to on the phone. I’m Mildred Barr. You must be the Winchesters?” Dean’s eyes widened at the prospect that Cas had used his last name. He lightened up a bit at that as his heart filled with uncontrolled joy.

 “We are,” Castiel smiled softly; “Mind if we come in to have a look around the home?” the angel queried Mildred. She scurried out of the way silently and closed the door behind the boys. She stood back to allow them some exploring time always smiling softly.

 Castiel and Dean slowly took in the well-lit entry way and living room beyond that; noting an adjacent modernized office space. The open kitchen revealed a family dining area centered inside three windows – one on each wall. Beyond a door just off the kitchen was a formal dining room tucked neatly away leading to a beautifully well-appointed sun room. The boys sauntered their way back into the living room, glancing at the old furniture before walking into a small foyer.

 They led themselves up a white railed staircase admiring authentic cherry wood steps. A small boxed hall gave way to corridors on each side and a rather cozy looking sitting room directly ahead. The team soon learned there to be four, two on each side of the strip, bedrooms on this floor plus two partial bathrooms. A short flight of stairs lead them to a huge master bedroom the size of the full attic. Natural light flowed in through the rather large bay window illuminating the room in soft twilight.

 The house was flawless in every aspect of the word. Sure, it needed a major paint job to get away from the deep earthy colors and more up-to-date furniture but it could not have been any better for the pair. “What do you think guys?” Gabriel asked tenderly from behind them somewhere. The hunter wrapped his arms around his angel leaning his head into his mess of waves, “It's near perfect.” He whispered as if the whole room would fade away if he spoke with any vigor. The angel leisurely nodded his head in agreement, resting fully against Dean’s side.

 Near perfect was an understatement.

* * *

 

Team Free Will plus Gabriel sat stiffly on plush couches in the sitting room. Milly, Gabe now addressed the old woman as such, was mulling around downstairs pulling together a tray of various sweets as they awaited her husband’s return. She did not feel right and proper selling their house without his presence.

 Mildred had explained to the boys that they were selling so that the elderly couple could live out their days traveling the country together until they were just too old to do that anymore. Dean secretly hoped one day Cas and him could do that without it having to be a hunt. Of course given that angel’s don’t die… or age…

 Those thoughts could go back to the deepest pit of Hell from wince they crawled out of. After Dean stomped on them and broke their resolve and ran them over a few hundred times with Baby.

 Mildred brought up the pastries and set them on the coffee table before taking her own seat in a huge blue arm chair. They all spent the next half hour getting to know one another and generally having a swell time. Mildred seemed to like Dean and Castiel although they were certain she had not caught on to their relationship yet. They both yearned that she would not question who Dean would be living with if they made a deal.

 Not more than an hour late for their appointment an older gentleman appeared. Dean concluded that it was Milly’s husband as he crossed the threshold of the square room and pecked his wife on the lips. Castiel lightly gripped the hunter’s upper leg as a sign of nervousness. Dean briefly laid his hand on the angel’s giving him a quick hard smile before looking back towards the man. He seemed to have not noticed the contact or just didn’t think anything of it as he moved to introduce himself.

 “I’m Melvin Barr, nice to meet you,” he shook each man’s hand sneering almost undetectably at the couple sitting well within personal boundaries of one another. Castiel, however, caught the look and attempted unsuccessfully to hide more in Dean’s hard side. The hunter calmly asked the angel to move over a bit mentioning personal space and breathing down his neck. Dean hated being this way to Cas but he for one had not caught the look and did not need this couple to turn them down because they caught on to them. “Which one of you lucky bastards are looking to buy?”

 The hunter cleared his throat, standing to meet Melvin eye to eye, “I am, sir,” Dean paused and glanced back at Castiel; “Actually, we are,” he gestured back at the angel who stood sluggishly. Even to the most asinine person alive, it was quite obvious that the other man was an anxious wreck of tension and timidry. Cas extended his clammy hand expressing his hello almost unintelligibly. Unconsciously he placed a hand over his belly like he expected the couple to notice the slight roundness under the overly large t-shirt. Dean smirked a little at his angel’s endearing behavior. That might buy them a ticket in or at least make the couple think he was just a very masculine girl.

 Melvin scowled at the pair under a bright beam. He continued on with his probes; asking if they were first timers, why they chose the house, even if they planned to make any revisions to the current appearance of the home. Dean managed to find a way to politely answer that yes, they were going to paint the walls something drastically different that shit brown and puke green. Gabriel gave him an under the table thumbs up so many times that Castiel lost count and just began glaring at the two.

  “Alright boy, you passed the preliminaries. Now, what pretty ladies get to join you and your friend here?”

 The room went silent. Gabriel and Sam slowly cocked their heads towards one another giving the other a sour lemon look. Sam chanced a glance over to his brother thrown off by his deer-caught-in-headlights look. He could not believe that he had not planned an answer for this question.

 Gabriel stared at Castiel with a smirk. It was now or never, his baby bros time to come out of the closet to people who weren’t his proclaimed family. Just as Castiel turned to answer, Dean threw on one of his best grins, slung an arm over his waist and proclaimed his undying love for the man next to him.

 Melvin opened and closed his mouth once, twice, three times; clenching his hands by his side. He was seething in rage, bathing in sheer ire and contempt that it felt as if his eyes were burning holes right through Dean’s when he looked up from where they once bore into the carpet. The old man drew his lips back in a fierce snarl, his heart beating dangerously fast in his chest. “You what now?”

 Castiel ducked under the hunter’s arm and hid behind him, why was this man yelling at them? They had done nothing wrong! All Dean said was true.

 “I said, Cas here and I are happily together you judgmental fuck. I love him, he loves me. We’re going to start a big o’ family,” Dean answered sweat as can be. His hand snaked behind him to grab hold of Castiel’s. Silently he urged him to feel that everything was okay, he could handle this. Exactly what he hoped would not happen, was happening.

 Melvin practically roared, “I will not have a couple of queers living under the roof I called home for many, many years. You can go to the fiery pits of Hell where you be-“

 “Now Mel,” Mildred tried to console.

 “I will not have it, Milly. They can go whore one another out some place else - do whatever their kind does. But it will not happen under this roof. Not now, not ever. Do you understand me?”

 “Dean and I do not whore ourselves out!” Castiel protested rather loudly, “We plan to start a family here… to be happy and provide here. Not go out of our way to soil everything we have worked for,” the angel was trembling softly. Mood swings, Dean concluded to himself. That explained the reason he was so shy earlier and now… scared maybe? Angry was a definite possibility. That’s just awesome…

 “Melvin Eugene Brass! We will not throw a couple of fine boys out on the street just because you cannot be excepting of them. What they do in their own time is none of our business. I am so sorry, Honey. Want some tea? We’ll sell you the house, I promise,” Dean heard Cas sniff behind him and nod his head gently. He realized Mildred was trying to soothe him. His angel was actually crying.

  Definitely mood swings. No more questions about it.

 “But, Mildred-”

 “You shut your trap, Mel and call the nice woman who said she’d help us the paperwork. We’ve got a house to sell.”

 Gabriel gawked at the old woman who winked at him in return. Woman knew who to get her way. The archangel concluded that he desperately needed to apprentice under her and soon.

* * *

  Dean finished scrawling the r of his surname out on the documentation in front of him. He felt like he was signing his life away. Literally considering Castiel talked him into using his God given name rather than an alias. He tried arguing back that the angel had written out Castiel Winchester when that was not even close to his last name but quickly lost. The seraph was starting to get scary this way.

 200,000 dollars later, Dean and Cas where home owners. The Brass’s would be moving or selling their belongings over the weekend just a short five days away. The duo had already discussed using any left over money for basic furniture until they had a steady income. In the meantime, Dean had arranged to stay with Bobby who was only about a 45 minute drive out. Everything was coming together nicely.

 The hunter said his thanks and goodbyes to Mildred, making it a point to ignore Melvin. If old dude wanted to be a dick, Dean could be ten times the dick. Hell, he was a better looking dick to begin with. He snickered lightly at his own joke before joining the trio by the door.

 Sam and Gabriel had already decided that they were off to work another case to give their brother’s some breathing room. Gabriel was already prepared to use it as a number one way to seduce the moose of a hunter that stood next to him.

 Dean hoped in the Impala followed shortly by Cas who had gotten rung into a grandma death hug. The angel sighed and lent against the window, smiling tiredly at Dean. The hunter reciprocated the smile while throwing baby into drive.

 “Want to grab some dinner?”

 “Yes, please,” Castiel blew out a puff of air, settling more comfortably in the plush leather seat, “But, uhm… no more burgers,” he smiled sheepishly at Dean. The blond glanced over at the angel disbelievingly for a moment before belting out a deep chime of laughter.

 “Bar food good?”

 “Dean, I have no idea if bar food is good. We usually only dine at eateries.”

 “No, Cas, I mean – Never mind what I meant. We’re eating bar food.”

 “That is fine by me, Dean,” the angel giggled.

 The boys waltz into a rather posh looking bar. Well, posh looking on the outside. The inside screamed great food and even better beer. If Dean was looking for a lay, this would have been the perfect bar to do so at. The women were just stellar.

 “What can I get you boys?” their waitress, a rather skinny scantily dressed blonde girl, asked in a northern drawl. Dean leered at her for a millisecond before Castiel kicked him rather roughly under the table. He was so not used to this restrain yourself around the ladies thing.

 Dean grumbled softly while looking at Castiel innocently from under his eyelashes, “I’ll take the Cowboy,” Dean winked suggestively at the other man who blushed light pink at the innuendo, “and lemme get your best seasonal.”

 Cas thought about growling at the woman in front of him when she chortled obnoxiously and batted her eyelashes at what was his, “and for you, Grumpy?” she deemed him.

 “Fettuccine,” the angel ground out not so polite like, “and water is fine.” He watched in horror as she lent over to whisper something in Dean’s ear that seemed to amuse him. He really had to restrain himself from snarling as she subtly flashed Dean her rather large breasts. It took everything in him not to attach himself to his lips when she casually ran her hand up his leg while walking behind him to serve another table. Although what disturbed him the most was Dean’s total passiveness over the whole encounter, like he was completely okay with some woman rubbing up on him in the angel’s presence.

 “What was that about? What did she whisper to you?”

 “Calm down there, Kitten,” Dean chucked, laying his hand over the angel’s on the table when he shot him a hard-on inducing glance. Cas probably would have felt something towards that look if he was not so inanely pissed, “She just told me that you looked like you needed a good lay. Do you, Cas?”

 The angel’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. Oh, “No, Dean, I do not require a ‘good lay’. I would not mind you, though.”

  “Well, aren't I a good lay?” the hunter smirked sardonically. Cas was too much sometimes.

  “Of course you are! I did not mean-”

 “I know, Angel. God knows I know.”

 “What does my father have to do with this?” Castiel glowered righteously at Dean. Since when did he have the right?

 Dean grinned in unadulterated adoration. When this baby was born, Dean was marrying the fuck out of his angel, “Nothing Castiel.”

“Nothing, exactly. I do not mention your father at inappropriate times,” Cas smiled at the hunter over the rim of his cup. Dean caught that he now understood the phrasing used earlier even if he did not appreciate its use. Dean relaxed back into his side of the booth, taking a swig of his highly refreshing beer.

  They enjoyed a nice setting out. Castiel seemed to calm down into his normal self; mood swings seemingly gone. He managed to keep his weird cravings to a minimum although they seemed to be coming in full swing now. With both of them sated and ready to just sleep it off; they paid the bill and walked outside.

 Cas intertwined their fingers, swinging their arms back and forth in a soothing manner, “I love you, Dean Winchester.”

 “I love you, Castiel Winchester,” he smiled at the name. Cas looked up at Dean when they reached the back of the Impala. “What? It has a sort of ring to it that I like.” He pecked the angel softly on the lips.

 “I love you to the moon and back,” the angel spoke again with a face so earnest Dean almost gave in and screwed the innocence out of him.

 “Excuse me?” he asked softly.

 “To the moon and back,” Castiel reiterated with life, “I love you to the moon and back, Dean Winchester… past the closest star, other than the sun, to us into the next galaxy.”

 Dean shifted giddily, his heart swelling so large he convinced himself it would burst out of his chest. He was shining with delight as he repeated, “I love you to the moon and back, Cas.”

 The angel titled his head up kissing the hunter softly. He pulled back with a huge grin in place as he sauntered over to the car. Dean made his way over to the driver’s side in no hurry; “Hey Cas?” the angel hummed a response, “What is the nearest star other than the sun?”

 The angel twittered as he sat in the passenger’s seat, “Proxima Centauri, Dean.”

 “Huh,” the hunter mulled over the information, “of course you know,” he mocked halfheartedly. He sped off into the cool late September night, unprepared for the trials to come later in the week but fully prepared to tackle them with his angel.

 He figured as long as Castiel was picking out the curtains, there couldn't be anything to go truly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's about that time for a new chapter. I think I like this late night Saturday posting, gives me a few hours to revise and edit before deciding to be productive. It's most likely safe to say you can expect updates on Saturday/Sundayish.


	4. Chapter 4

This place is horror… _horror_.

 The words that had been floating around a particular hunter’s head slowly continued to reform and describe the total epitome of Hell he found himself in over and over again. His mind screamed at him that the establishment was a place of contempt for his whole being. If the man next to him was not perpetually grounding him to his spot, he would have fled an hour ago. He could not even begin to explain how badly he wanted to rip off the head of any other busy bee worker who asked if they were finding everything alright.

 Dean Winchester was in a furniture store; buying actual homey things for a home. The whole expedition was setting warning bells off in his head like no other. A Winchester boy was never to set foot in here. He didn’t have a home to furnish, he never needed one. Dean continued to remind himself that he did have a home now, and it really needed some furniture.

 When it came down to it, he supposed it made up for dragging Castiel to the hardware store to, in his words, pick out colors that would not make him weep every time he laid eyes upon them. In his opinion, the light blues, pale yellows and passive grays really suited the downstairs floor. He praised God for sending this paint picking genius to him.

 “Dean, I told you, white fabric or black leather would suite a grey or blue living room, depending on which we choose. Why will you not just listen?” Castiel huffed for the umpteenth time.

 “We’re going to have a kid! They destroy things like it’s their job,” Dean glanced back at the snow white cloth couch; it really would look nice with the grey coloring.

 “Either way it will be a couch, a baby will not abolish it and we can teach them to be very careful or Daddy will throw a fit,” Cas smiled warmly as he ran his hand down a deep red leather couch. It would look very modern in the siting room. He had yet to decide the paint for the room, but he began contemplating pure white.

 “Fine, we’ll get your hoity-toity satin white sofa,” Dean grinned smugly as he marked down the item number on a piece of paper. They searched among other white furniture before traveling on to coffee and side tables as well as accessories. The boy’s managed to gather quite a bit of starter furniture for their family areas.

 Dean stared down at the prices they racked up. They were dangerously close to the budget price, “Do you want to go ahead and buy for the siting room and formal dining area?” Dean quickly learned to use the appropriate names of rooms around Castiel; “We can get the things for the sun room when it gets warm out again.”

 Cas took a peak at Dean’s notebook, “We still need pots and pans for the kitchen considering it is nearly completed. So we really should look at the master bedroom for now,” Castiel paused, contemplating, “We also need to work on the bathrooms both in our rooms and on the second floor, but we can take care of that when we get a bit more income.” Dean had recently begun working at the local shop as a full time mechanic. He was working his way up to Master and pretty soon would be making bank. Bless both his father’s for throwing a wrench in his hand.

 “You’re right; the stoning should be coming in for the walls sometime this week. It’s going to look badass.” The hunter had suggested they fake a chimney wall with stained brick by the backboard for whatever bed they happened to choose. Castiel had chosen a creamy vanilla shade with scary precision and added they should stain the showing support beams red chestnut. The room was pulling together nicely.

 Dean quickly finished writing out the numbers for a rather large platform bed while his angel attempted to carry a plethora of sheets and pillows over to him. He noted the forest green and beige comforter with a small smile; he could have guessed that one. The hunter grabbed up most of the pillows, minus one, that Castiel had tucked closely to his chest.

 “What’s that, Angel?” the fuzzy blue back reminded him of a child’s pillow. He gently grabbed it and faced the front to him only to be met with two happily smiling bees flying with no destination around one another.

 Cas took it back, giggling softly at Dean’s goofy smile, “I like it. That is all,” with that the angel turned to find some assistance.

 No more than half Dean’s soul and a quarter of his money later, the Winchester couple was prepared to set up their lives in their new home.

* * *

* * *

 

 The hunter was appreciative of Bobby’s hand-me-down tube TV; very, very appreciative. It was good company for the nights Castiel kicked him out their bedroom to sleep on the couch.

 Almost twelve weeks pregnant and all going smoothly, the angel was in the middle of a hormone induced mood swing storm. One minute he would be cuddling with Dean in the out sized bed crooning and giggling with one another and the next, well, the next Dean would be trudging down two flights of stairs to in hope find a Dr. Sexy MD marathon on. He didn’t mind it really; the angel had no control over these things.

 “Dean?” spoke a disembodied voice from the hall behind him, “Dean, I am sorry,” the hunter smiled softly at the gravelly whisper, muting the drama of Dr. Sexy and beckoning his angel over to him. Some minutes ended like this, Castiel coming down to needlessly apologize.

 “It’s all right, Cas. You know I don’t mind all this,” he hunter carded a hand through the mused black locks. He unmuted his program but turned the volume down to a soft gurgle while maneuvering Castiel and himself into a more desired position of back to chest. This way Dean could more easily stroke the vessel his unborn child lay dormant in while having the perfect place to bury his head in a tidal wave of Ocean Breeze smelling bliss. The hunter and his angel preferred these moments the most; the moments where nothing but one another mattered. They were one.

 “Dean,” Castiel started in a light murmur, “I was thinking, while I was upstairs alone I mean,” the angel trailed off, seeming to lose all confidence but the hunter did not push, he could tell his love was in turmoil with himself and inquiring would not assist in their situation. Cas started again after a couple of deep breaths, a little louder than before, “I know my vessel is doing well, we did not predict this body, once human as it was, could do such a thing as hold a child, but I am starting to worry…”

 Dean huffed quietly, he expected the angel to get doubts at some point, but not with only the hunter around. He did not have the knowledge to devise a suffice answer for Castiel – an answer that would soothe his troubled mind. “Cas, Gabriel said that your… body,” could it be considered such? “Would be able to change to fit our case. So far you’ve done great; I don’t see a reason for that to change now.”

 “I know what he said, I am just worried that there will be… minor complications to our current predicament. I cannot honestly believe that a male vessel will be able to properly adapt, but I also fear if I change vessels the child will be lost to us.”

 “We’ll call up Gabriel in the morning?”

 “Yes, we should pray to him in the morning.”

* * *

 

 Morning did not come soon enough for the angel. He awoke bright and early with anticipation settling heavy in his gut. With no hope of falling back to sleep, Castiel rolled from his warm covers at an unusually dark quarter ‘til seven. He ultimately decided he had no intention to wake his sleeping hunter this early on a Saturday and made his ungraceful decent down two flights of stairs. The floor was cold and creaky beneath his feet.

 Cas poured a cup of grapefruit juice and topped it off with apple cider vinegar on a whim. He sipped at it before pouring nearly the whole cup down the drain; that was a terrible, horrible idea screw cravings with a burning holy passion. The angel eventually decided on a cup of jasmine tea and a grapefruit half rather than its squeezed counterpart. He then took it upon himself to quietly, in case rest was ensuing, pray to his brother in arms and request his presence in the late afternoon; please call Dean at your leisure to set a time between him and Sam, thank you.

 It was nearly nine when Castiel decided that Dean had slept in long enough and began to tidy up their not-messy-but-a-bit-more-disorderly-than-he-would-like home. The pair had recently finished furnishing and renovating the household to their individual liking causing Castiel to play keep house most of his days. Dean stated more than once that he found that downright sexy – the angel could not figure out for the life of him why cleaning a messy house could hold any sort of attraction.

 “CASTIEL!” the angel smirked glancing briefly toward the staircase, “Give me one good God damned reason you are running a vacuum at,” Cas could imagine Dean looking frantically toward the alarm on his side of the bed, “9:17! Cas Winchester, there is no reason on this Earth for you to be cleaning at 9:17 in the morning.” Throughout his rant Dean had made his way down the steps, through the corridor into the sitting room where his Angel has relaying smoke-blue rugs onto the floor. Cas sauntered over to the hunter, pecked him softly on the lips and moseyed his way back down to the kitchen. He softly threw out a remark about being up before seven while casually pouring Dean a cup of black coffee.

 Dean snorted as he took a sip of the steaming hot beverage, “That gives you no right to wake me up.” Castiel smiled as he prepared to make a proper breakfast for the two, there was no point in arguing, “Do hen’s in a basket sound alright to you? Maybe I can quickly stir up Eggs Benedict,” the angel pondered on his limited amount of recipes, “How long does hollandaise sauce take to make, Dean?” The hunter grunted his lack of knowledge from beneath a stack of his arms, “Hen’s in a basket it will be then.”

 The angel hummed a sweet melody as he quickly cooked. Castiel had been a quick learner in the culinary arts which Dean had been more than grateful for. The angel’s cooking was heavenly.

 “I prayed to Gabriel while you were asleep. Sam should call you sometime in the late morning to make plans for this afternoon,” he scooped two baskets with little round toast pieces onto one plate, one onto the other setting the larger portion in front of the man of the household. He then revolved a counter stool toward himself and sat at the kitchen island, leaning into Dean’s side.

 Castiel liked to imagine the picture the two created as he closed his eyes and rested against his hunter. He figured they were something out of an impressionist painting, all bright colors and light happy emotion. Dean set his hand around Castiel’s slightly pudged waist, pulling him close to his body with one arm while eating with the other. Yes, they were certainly artwork rather than true beings, the angel thought to himself.

 Just as the last wisps of morning chill began to dissipate in the mid-October afternoon, a subtle knocking sounded at the door; Castiel hurried to grab the door just as Dean was coming down the stairs wet haired and shirt askew.

 “Hey there little bro! Dean-o, nice sense of fashion you have gained there, very rebellious,” Gabriel commented, patting Castiel lightly on the cheek and making his way inside.

 “Hey Sam,” Dean ignored the maddening Archangel sitting next to his lover on the couch in light of giving his own brother a light hug, “How’s hunting with Screech going?”

 “Don’t call him that.”

 “Touchy, touchy.”

 The quartet sat in the bright living room chatting about the mundane. The conversation piece went from hunting to home life and even the thought of Sam giving up the life, “I mean, you got out, there are plenty of hunters out there, right?”; “I’m not arguing with you there, little brother.”

 An hour of idle small chat Gabriel got unnecessarily jittery and popped the big Q, “There _was_ a reason we got called her if you recall.” Castiel sighed softly as he rearranged himself to better look toward his brother.

 “Yes, I had a worrisome thought last night and thought maybe you could soothe the notion,” he paused in case of the archangel’s interruption, “I was thinking… I mean… this body cannot really hold a child can it? This vessel is male and is in no shape to hold life – however, I fear death of the child if…” he trailed off, doe eyes shot toward his sibling as his lip quivered, the thought unnerved him greatly.

 Gabriel sucked in a sharp breath and pondered for a moment. He almost wanted to laugh at his brother’s question, but he could see where the thought would come from, the naïve child. “Castiel, your vessel is fine to hold the child.”

 Dean interjected, “But he’s-”

 “I know what he his Dean; it doesn’t matter to this particular case. Cas’s grace will morph and heal his body into whatever is needed.

 It’s like this – when a mother is preparing to have a baby, her body goes through many cycles and changes to accommodate the child – her uterus expands, she stops producing eggs, the whole nine yards. Castiel’s grace does the same thing, so to speak. It will expand his body and create a uterus, it will inject estrogen, which we have seen already happen. Hell, I wouldn’t even be surprised if it tore him a new one,” Castiel looked worriedly down at his bulge at the prospect, “there is no worry about losing your little one.”

 “Oh thank Father,” Cas breathed lightly, his hand brushing over his bump.

 “However, if you really would like to change vessels, there should be no worries. Your grace holds the child, not the vessel,” Cas gazed at his brother through his lashes, thanking him softly in Enochian; he had been implementing the language into his vocabulary more often than not these days.

 With all apprehensions soothed light banter fell over the party until near dusk. Just as the sun was painting rosy pinks and midnight purples in the sky, the visiting couple prepared to leave; Dean and Castiel saw them out to what Dean had deemed The Hydra of Corruption, AKA Sam’s Dodge Charger.

 The angel made his way to the kitchen to prepare a light dinner. Just as he set unions to simmer, Dean wrapped his arms around his middle, gluing himself to his back, “Dean, it is very hard to cook this way,” Castiel attempted to wiggle free to no avail.

 “Please don’t change vessels,” Dean murmured into his skin, “I just got used to seeing you this way, I like it too much,” he nuzzled a small expanse of olive skin peeking out from Cas’s collar.

 Castiel smiled softly before turning in his hunter’s arms and pecking his lips, “I will not, just for you.”

 The two finished dinner and turned in to a night of movies and cheap frozen yogurt before retiring at an early hour.

 Cas lay situated in the grasp of Dean’s warm, strong arms, comfortable and contently tired. The hunter’s large hand stroked softly through his dark brown locks as they lay in companionable silence on the verge of sleep.

 “Hey Cas,” Dean grumbled quietly although it was unnecessary. His warm breath trailed over the angel’s ear – a whisper curling around his eardrum only for him to hear and comprehend; “Yes Dean?” he answered back just as softly into the other’s palm, the moist air tickling the microscopic hairs; “Why are you staring to speak Enochian more often? It’s not like any of us judge you for what you have to say,” Dean turned his nose into the angel’s hair, the small breaths inching it to and fro slightly. Castiel paused to a minute in his riposte, “I feel… safer using it. As if something is listening from the shadows that I cannot expel or expose and I do not feel as though I want it to hear me.”

 Dean’s body became ridged; had the shadows just moved or was he unnerved from Castiel’s response? They couldn’t have moved. There is no creature that lived in the shadows. The hunter snorted at his angel’s answer and maneuvered himself into a much more comfortable position spooned to Cas, “On that one, I love you.” “And I you, Dean.”

 

 The couples light sleep went undisturbed as a figure detached itself from the black shadows beyond the bed with a wicked leer and vanished into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And in comes plot elements. I plan to have a couple of more fluffier chapters before going full on plot however.


	5. Chapter 5

“Pink or blue?”

“We do not even know if it is a boy or girl.”

“But we don’t want to objectify her!”

“I beg to differ on her...”

“What about aquamarine or maroon?”

“We will see Dean. We will just have to see.”

“Fine whatever,” the hunter sat back on his heels, admiring the newly built ash wood cot. At 22 weeks pregnant and growing Castiel suggested he and Dean begin constructing the room for their little one. What Castiel did not suggest was for his feet to swell to the size of boulders; the angel could hardly stand to assist in the building. Instead he opted to sit and spend time with Dean.

Bright January light flittered in through blue-grey curtains abolishing any lingering shadows in the room. A silence, comforting and warm, settled through the house filling the couple to the brim in contentment. Alive and jittery the two swept through the rooms of their home.

* * *

 

“Cas quit moving…” the angel rustled into another position.

“Cas stop.” Once more the angel fidgeted before stopping.

“Damn it Castiel,” Dean glanced down at the dark locks nestled between his forearm and side. Cold ice blue eyes slowly glared up toward Dean filling him with dread, “You try getting comfortable with a baby kicking at your internal organs,” Dean grinned down at the fluff of rage burrowed next to him. Cas had been trying to get him to feel his little one’s movements the moment Castiel himself could feel them; too early much to the angels dismay.

“You can try now if you would like, Dean. He is moving enough,” the angel pushed off of the other, settling against the back of the couch. The hunter wasted no time in sliding off the couch and in between his lover’s legs. Castiel smelled like a brook and it makes his eyelids feel heavy. His heart beat like a snare drum as he reached for the life encased inside the angel. He could feel it; the light one, two of the child within the other. The moment was sweet and silent and everything he pictured it to be. He dared to put his ear to the padding of feet. The sound was music and light – a symphony, a tintinnabulation, a warble. Castiel chuckled, a rumble of thunder throughout his small frame, and it was the most beautiful noise Dean had ever heard.

When Dean peered up Castiel’s eyelids must have also felt heavy if the sliver of blue was anything to go by. It is Castiel who initiated the kiss, clumsy and broken, much to the others surprise; Dean softed it, slow and steady like the first cord struck on a piano. His fingers were delicate and when they touched him Castiel moaned in A1.

“You were crying, Dean. I did not understand,” there was a hitch in his voice – an A Capella solo in the perfect pitch. Dean could do no more than bite his lower lip, and make their clothes disappear as easily as he does the evil in their world. They licked moans from each other’s mouths, they rolled onto the remote, they ended up halfheartedly on the couch with their legs intertwined. The next thing Dean knew he was opening Castiel up with two fingers, lube from the sitting room drawer long forgotten on the rug below them.

“Dean please, that is plenty,” the growl in the angel’s voice screamed fuck me and fuck me and fuckmefuckmefuckme, “please.”

Dean could not help but comply with his wishes. He searched for the lubricant, anything to ease the burn. He nearly gave up until the cool bottle pressed into his hand. He bent to pepper kisses onto the angels face, allowing the cold liquid to warm between his fingers. Castiel bared his neck to the hunter as he pushed through the resistant ring of muscles. A sharp twist, a nip at the neck, a long drawn out moan lilting in the silence, Dean was in figurative heaven.

“ _Cas, C-as, Castiel…”_ rolled off his tongue in a soft baritone; breathed in with fire, exhaled with desire. The angel a compiled mess of whines and whimpers – arm thrown over crimson face, crimson face drenched in sweat – could do nothing more than snap his hips down, grinding absently to the beat of the others pounding.

Dean’s fingers found their way to the warm safety of Castiel’s mouth; hot tongue slipping through each gap, boney fingers wrapped around strong wrist. Blue eyes clouded with lust more black than azure, more slivers than eyes, green orbs completely black, no colour left to behold, a spectacle of pure sin.

High wails wafted toward the arched ceiling, flushed cock well forgotten between olive thighs before his hand wraps around it, reduced wails to soft pants of attempted control.

“Oh _God_ , Castiel.”

“ _De-ean,”_ light laughter rumbled from the dirty blond as he pressed his chest against the other effectively covering the brunet. His hips slowed to a rolling motion, sweet and soft opposed to the rough pounding from before.

“I love you, Castiel,” he whispered in the others ear.

“I love, _ah,_ you too, _Dee-an,”_ cum smeared across the pairs navel followed by Dean’s release within Castiel, causing the angel to pull a face.

“Look less grossed out, Angel.”

“It is everywhere.”

“I know baby, I know.”

* * *

 

“It reeks of sex in here, little brother. Oh gross!” Gabriel covered his nose as the party followed behind him.

“I don’t smell anything,” Sam muttered and smiled apologetically to the couple across from him. Gabriel was starting to become a pain in his…

“You don’t have the nose I do, Gigantor,” a round of sighs accompanied the archangel, “He _doesn’t_.”

“Gabriel, my sitting room smells no different than a typical sitting room,” Dean glanced over at his lover, surprised to see the completely straight face he managed to hold. Gabriel gave a disbelieving grunt but left it at that.

“How’s hunting going, Sammy?”

“Not so well, Dean. The case we have now… it’s just wrong.”

“Everything we’ve hunted is wrong, what’s different this time?” Sam spared a glance over to Castiel who, thankfully, was in a deep conversation with his brother. He sighed somberly, turning back to dean.

“Whatever we have now is taking expecting mothers and infants; days later the bones of the newborns or the mothers, beaten into miscarriage, are found. Men are being driven to insanity with nightmares or found as husks without a drop of blood left in them. I’m at a standstill on the lore here.”

Dean paused a moment, listening to Castiel cadence and chirp in Enochian, “It’s certainly not something we’ve ever heard of before. Should I be worried?” Sam pondered for what seemed like hours.

“No, I don’t think so. There hasn’t been any activity around here and Castiel isn’t technically an expecting mother given the circumstances,” Dean let out a sigh of relieve. That was something he desperately needed to hear. The last thing he needed was for his angel to be worried about some creep monster with a child fetish.

The rest of the afternoon carried on smoothly. The angels spoke softly in their guttural language, giving the brothers a chance to relax in the rhythm when they themselves found nothing more to chatter on about. When the angels found silence clawing at their throats they listened to the enthralling stories of the Winchesters days passed.

“… and that’s how I ended up wearing satiny pink panties.”

“Dude, some things just shouldn’t be shared between brothers,” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Did you like it?”; “Gabriel!”

“Kinduv, yeah, I was 19,” Castiel snorted from his side, “What? I bet you would like it too, pretty boy!”

“Even I’d like to see Cassie in panties. All tanned skin and muscle,” Sam groaned at the blond.

“It wouldn’t be muscle like this,” Castiel motioned to the baby bump in front of him. It was starting to upset him with all the weight he was gaining. Gabriel came to stand in front of the other angel.

“Can I… uhm… feel it. I mean I never have before and you’re my brother a-“ Castiel grabbed his flaying hand, laying it flat on his round tummy, searching for a kick. Gabriel on the other hand made a small wowed face, enthralled with the feel of another life force within the other.

“I have got to get me on of these.”

“Gabriel, you do not just get a baby.”

“Killj- oh he kicked,” the archangel grinned up at Castiel. It felt amazing, like a little kick boxer ready for the world.

“You all always refer to _she_ as _he_ ,” Dean muttered causing Castiel to giggle at him.

“Mother’s intuition, Dean, I say it will be a boy, but if it is a girl I will be no less displeased,” Gabriel had moved from his sibling’s front to sit at his side. Sam saw an opportunity and awkwardly grasped it, “Since Gabe… I… can…” Dean shook his head at his brother, looking to Castiel who smiled invitingly.

Sam laid a large hand on Cas’s stomach, covering a good portion of the surface area, “Whoa, it’s hard,” he said in an awed voice as the other Winchester sputtered out laughter quite loudly. Castiel lightly hit Dean’s harm, caressing his stomach with the other attempting to will his child to kick. A soft thud echoed against Sam’s hand as sweet laughter filled the room from the large man.

“Dean you do not have to hold me so possessively, we are all alone,” Castiel murmured. Dean grunted in response from behind the angel. He couldn’t help that everyone else decided to touch _his_ angel.

Castiel laughed softly and snuggled back into the hunter nestled into the couch. Both sat in content silent as they watched the quiet TV.

The shadows stilled for tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologize for not updating in a timely manner; school takes a lot out of a person. But now that the semester is over I should efficiently finish the work. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter even though it was short, it was odd to write after such a long time and then with season nines finale I really wanted to throw myself off course with additions (successfully refrained from doing so however). 
> 
> So I did say every few chapters I would do a time recap for those who cared: I chose a random date for him to conceive out of a hat and got August 7th. The middle of chapter one put us at early October and Castiel at 8 weeks pregnant to currently 22 weeks pregnant in early January. And there is your recap.


	6. Chapter 6

The wails and coos of a babe could be heard for miles around, loud and guttural. Castiel was frantic, searching, seething, that was _his_ babe; the monster that stole him would be torn to shreds. He whipped around, the echoing threw him off. He didn’t know where to search, where the screams were coming from. A stick snapped to his right, he could have sworn a voice cackled and called for him.

“ _Castiel… Come Castiel, see your young one your half breed_ ,” the wails narrowed. He could follow them now. He could find his little one.

He veered off the worn beaten path between the trees into a run wings tearing through skin on his back, breaking through sinew and bone. Powerful white and black extensions unfurled, spattered with red, ready to fend off any attacks to himself or his child.

The woods seemed to darken a, pang of deep green that clouded the once before clear thickets. Castiel’s heart dropped to his stomach; this could not be good.

“ _What will we do with the drunken whaler? What will we do with the drunken whaler? What will we do with the drunken whaler early in the Morning?_ ” the cruel lullaby taunted around him.

His speed increased tenfold. Something evil was approaching his babe, planned to rip him in half, destroy Castiel’s life in one sure strike. His wings flapped nervously as he stopped in a clearing.

_“Way hey and up she rises. Way hey and up she rises. Way hey and up she rises; early in the morning.”_

Castiel’s mouth opened in a silent scream; his hands covered his ears in a feeble attempt to snuff out the voice. Sickening crunches settled all around him. The wailing grew louder.

_“Stuff him in a sack and throw him over. Stuff him in a sack and throw him over. Stuff him in a sack and throw him over; early in the morning.”_

Sound lifted, blissful silence erupted. The soft gurgling of his son could be heard ahead. He stepped forward a weight on his shoulders heavy as lead forced him to a leisurely pace.

 _“Feed him to the hungry rats for dinner. Feed him to the hungry rats for dinner. Feed him to the hungry rats for dinner; early in the morning,”_ a voice of an old mother clucked softly.

Castiel felt no pain to the words this time. Fear lifted from his bones. The little ones cries turned to angry screeches.

_“Shoot him through the heart with a loaded pistol. Shoot him through the heart with a loaded pistol. Shoot him through the heart with a loaded pistol; early in the morning.”_

The angel’s annexes expanded to protect an invisible being from harm. He lowered them slowly unsure why he needed them in the first place. Everything was calm. He continued forward to the awful squeals of a babe. The woods closed off, pitch black and quiet. That’s when he saw the arrangement of stones and the bones of an infant.

 _“Slice his throat with a rusty cleaver. Slice his throat with a rusty cleaver. Slice his throat with a rusty cleaver; early in the morning,”_ sung a low voice in front of him. His heart sped up to dangerous speeds. His breathing came out in huffs. His blue eyes were dampened by threatening tears. Finally a gravelly voice whispered, “My _baby boy_.”

“You’re half breed disease,” corrected an ancient woman. She was sharpening an old blade, silver and ebony.

A broken sob came from deep within Castiel. He stared at the ground only to notice the gore of the woman’s work. Skin and blood, blood and sin, sin and tragedy formed around her knees in a circle of terror. The swaddle that had kept his young safe lay torn and bloodstained on the woman’s lap. She killed him with no remorse.

“A creature so disfigured and disgusting as that created with a _beautiful_ ,” she ground out the word, picking up a small bone from the infant, “human does not deserve to live in a world where angels so broken as you walk.”

“My son,” Castiel repeated, a vinyl stuck on a scratch too big to play over.

“Your sin,” she once again corrected patiently.

Bile rose in the angel’s throat. He wanted to empty the contents of his stomach, only to realize his stomach contained nothing but acid. Still he heaved stinging pungency and water onto the woodland floor. The timeworn woman did not seem off put by his actions. She continued only to fashion the newborn bones into a sort of noose. Castiel stilled for a long while, incapable of a coherent thought at the moment.

“ _Why?”_ he sighed in a shattered tone. He did not know to what he was questioning why. Why him? Why his son? Why was he revolting enough to kill in the early stages of life? Why bring him to this place of iniquity?

“Because I do not favor the pure.”

She said it as though the repose held the meaning of life itself. As though it answered any question one might ever encounter. Who was pure? Himself? An angel? He was nothing of the sort; he had rebelled to fall into the wicked leer of man. Was his child born without the sin of man? Without the sin of his forefathers and fathers?

It dawned on him then that his child was a pure heart; that the turpitude of all before him, the original evil, was not found in his young one.

Former young one if he must add.

Finally the woman glanced up at him. Her eyes were that of a hawk, amber, knowing and powerful. She was a bird of prey sent to feast on the souls of the unadulterated. He was not scared; he knew he should be, that this woman had stolen his life from him, but he did not sense the fear. A smile played on her lips. It was taunting, playful and mesmerizing.

She stood, obviously done with the encounter. The copses that stood strong around him grew dank and rotten, mist settled over the fine greenery withering it as it passed. She placed the bones around his neck, vanishing.

_“Way hey and up she rises. Way hey and up she rises. Way hey and up she rises; early in the morning.”_

* * *

 

Castiel bolted upright, a sick sticky feeling clung to his back, an awful sweat drenched him face. His hands flew to his stomach, still heavily laden with child. He began to cry.

Dean shrugged the heavy blanket off of his shoulders exposing his bare chest. Something soft tickled at his nose leaving him terribly confused. Then it reached his ears, the soft hitching of breath and quiet wrecked moans. Without much thought he wrapped his arms around his weeping angel, felt the fast rise and fall of his chest and warm tears. Most of all, he saw the new appendages that had not before been there.

“Tox i teloah saanir tilb,”* he mourned softly. Dean nodded, not understanding the foreign tongue but knowing whatever it meant caused his angel great pain. He nodded again murmuring that everything was alright now hoping it relieved Castiel of his sorrow. To his luck the angel quieted down a bit.

Dean stroked the boundless wings folded against his loves back. He did not know when they became visible to the human eye but he was glad they did. Soft snow white feathers gave way to razor sharp ebony. The wings were clearly for fighting rather than attraction but he supposed during times they could be used to attract another. He tried to imagine Castiel using his wings to beckon another angel but could not see the reserved man doing such a thing.

Cas sighed deeply leaning into the petting of his hunter; the only evidence of the nightmare being the extensions now clear behind his back. It unnerved him that a dream could bring a part of him never meant to be seen out.

“Are you okay, babe?” Dean asked softly. The words curled around Castiel’s eardrum, soothing his aching heart and drying his tears.

“I had a nightmare - a terrible nightmare.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

And he did, he described in grave detail the woman and the woods, the death of their unborn, the bone snare, every last aspect. By the end Dean is chilled the very core unable to comprehend the awful dread Castiel must have felt at the very thought of losing the babe. It was early, too early to rise out of bed on the account Dean had to go to work, but still angel and hunter found themselves in the kitchen brewing calming tea and addressing mundane topics quietly. Dean suggested inviting someone over for the day so the angel is not alone, Castiel agreed in the end.

With less than an hour left before Dean has to get up for work the two laid back down. Castiel did not sleep.

Morning arrived too quickly for Castiel. He desperately wished to fall back into the oblivion of rest. He attempted to retract his wings but much to his dismay failed. He decided a shower was more than needed noting Dean let him sleep in longer than he typically does. Clean and safe he called to a brother, easily avoiding Gabriel and his jabbing nature.

“You called, Cassie?” A sweet melodic accent rang through the living space. The angel turned to his brother happy to see him for once.

“Balthazar, come sit,” he motioned to the white couch cushion next to him. Graciously the other took a seat.

“Your wings, why I had no idea you could make them physical rather than apparitions,” the blond murmured sarcastically running the tip of his fingers through the snowy appendages. Castiel shrugged softly a purr rising in his throat.

Castiel relayed his pregnancy to Balthazar – relayed the dream that forced his wings into view. His brother listened attentively, only occasionally making cynical comments, “I’ll chop that Winchesters balls off for making you prey like this.”; “That will not be necessary, brother.”

Balthazar promised to find a way to retract his wings claiming it could not be that difficult. The day is wasted well in each other’s company. Castiel could sense his brother apprehension to leaving him to himself for a moment; even if that included Balthazar standing outside of the restroom door.

“When will Dean be back?” he questioned tenderly. His head pillowed comfortably on Castiel’s wing, careful of knife like feathers at the bottom. Castiel, pillowed on top of the blond mop of his sibling, answered gently, “An hour or so.”

And Dean did return in an hour exactly. He kissed Castiel’s forehead dearly and gave Balthazar a curt nod before showering off the grease of car work quickly.

“I would like to ask to come back tomorrow, to keep you company,” he propositioned as Dean returned downstairs taking the flight two at a time.

“I would have it no other way,” Castiel smiled brightly pulling his brother into a tight hug.

He’s gone before Castiel can let go. Dean replaced his brother and the world seems to brighten considerably. He barely noticed the discomfort of being without _his_ hunter. Now that he was there, physically, emotionally, he never wanted to allow him to walk out of the front door. Dean seemed to sense this or perhaps he could feel it to because he wrapped his arms around the angel like a vice grip. Castiel gasped into the hunter’s ear.

He knew this feeling, had read about it before, this possession that he placed under legend and lie. Castiel placed his hand over his loved ones heart. It beat fast and strong beneath his fingertips; he muttered two words as though they were the climax of knowledge, “Soul bond.”

* * *

* * *

 

Dean did not know what a soul bond is but it excited him none the less. The words sent electricity through his bones. Mid-January light landed chilled on his face as him and his angel strolled through the frozen tundra of South Dakota, happy, content and soul bonded.

Castiel did not need to explain what it meant. Those sorts of things never need to be explained. Dean assumed it meant they would always be together and he was partially correct.

Balthazar lived by his word on finding a way to hide Castiel’s wings. He would now always be able to retract and show them at will. His brother explained to him that a part of his grace was attempting to become more like his 'mate', more like the hunter. His grace viewed the fact Dean did not bear wings and attempted to make his composition similar. He was told not to worry, but he worried either way. What else would be expelled from him? Dean, however, was pleased by that information. He and those wings would need to be properly acquainted.

The brunet haired man intertwined their fingers snugly, knocking into the hunter’s side playfully, laughing warmly.

The wind wrapped around Castiel, a haunting melody playing in his ear disquieting him to the heart;

“ _What will we do with the drunken whaler? Stuff him in a sack and throw him over. Feed him to the hungry rats for dinner. Shoot him through the heart with a loaded pistol. Slice his throat with a rusty cleaver. Early in the morning.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *He is of death by her 
> 
> Do you smell that? The sweet smell of plot point tears. I'm itching to get through this. I never planned for the fic to exceed 15 chapters and with the way I have the next couple chapters written, I'm not all that worried about going over my goal. 
> 
> Please do tell me what you think, I live for it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy has it been a tremendously hectic week. I apologize for the delay in the process of updating; I was supposed to hear from a beta this week - waited and never received any word - then my laptop charger busted and it spiraled downhill from there.
> 
> Italics symbolize speech through the soul bond.

Dean Winchester, to put it simply, had never had an easy life. He and ache were in an eternal marriage – from this day forward until death do us part and all that mumbo-jumbo.

But never did the harshness of the life prepare him for the dull throb of emptiness that accompanied sweet silence.

_Dean, Dean Winchester, Dean Please!_

_Castiel, Ca-_

_I love you, I will miss you._

_You don't mean that. You'll be back._

_I am going to my own living hell._

And with those words he was gone.

Vanished.

Vamoosh.

The patch of warmth left by the former occupant was slowly dispersing from the passenger side of the Impala. The first creeping fingers of loneliness were beginning to set in, seizing his organs in an icy grip. He moved sluggishly out of the car and into the house.

He felt a tug within him, a deep-seated agony that made him sick to his stomach. He knew it was Castiel, his grief bleeding into the hunter.

He took a bottle of whiskey from a cabinet high up in the kitchen, the first bottle in months, the first since the baby. He downed it, ignoring the burn and the bitter bite. It was hard to keep the alcohol down. He managed as always.

The bottle went with him to the couch, sloshing soundly by his side. It should be Cas beside him.

The thought of the angel burned something within him; a hound biting and tearing at his soul. He doubled over in pain only to feign he needed another swig.

_I hate you._

_Get it away from me._

_Dean help!_

_It_ hurts.

_I hate you._

_I hate you_

_I ha-_

"-te me too."

Dean buried into the couch, curled up, knees to chest. He snapped the bond. He could not deal with the angel, did not want to deal with him. It hurt like a bitch but he could deal with it. He convinced himself it did not hurt at all, that the pain was not real.

Except it was.

And it hurt.

A lot.

And it was mostly his fault.

Or completely his fault.

Electricity singed through him. It was Cas, it had to be Cas. A headache began behind his eyes and spread like wildfire. The angel was taken. The angel needed to be found. The angel- Dean wanted to mend the broken link; to feel his angel even at a distance. He felt sick to get this much joy through so much wreckage.

He opened the bond to an armful of ruffled feathers. His greyscale world brightened into pastels of sumnmer.

Even through the bond the angel was a strong force. He felt warmth crawl up his spine. His angel was content.

_Call Gabriel. You need help._

_I miss you._

Dean felt sorrow through the bond. It may not have been the smartest thing he'd ever said but it was definitely not the dumbest.

_I miss you too. I am scared._

_We'll get through this Cas. Together._

_Together._

Silence followed shortly. Dean figured even the bond had its limits.

It did not take him long to get shit faced drunk. It may have been a dirty habit of his but that did not make him immune to the effects of distilled grain. His foggy mind decided now was the best time to ask for help.

He prayed.

And hoped the line was down.

Something sad played over the radio. It made Dean sick. Who wrote this shit anyway? Why did it have to be all lost love and look at the new girl I found to fuck?

Lost love hurt more than finding a new body.

He wanted to cry but would not allow himself the luxury. He took another gulp of whiskey. He was drinking to black out at this point.

Two hours into loneliness he smashed the bottle on the ground. The smell of the alcohol burned his eyes. The smoky coloured rug sopped up the dampness, sticking the fibers to one other. Glass poked out from the matting holding it all together. It held strong, not giving in to the sharpness of the bottle.

He needed more whiskey.

He was used to drowning himself, blood alcohol content .2 and over, in liquor over tears but this was getting excessive.

Finding another bottle seemed to be no great feat. Dean lay back on the couch his feet propped up on the table in front of him. No one was there to tell him to take them down so he figured he might as well live it up.

The movements were mechanic – bottle to lips, swig, bottle down half way to chest, repeat. No amount of alcohol seemed to get him hammered enough.

Grief: a maiden waiting for the right one to break her gates. Even in her lack of passion lost men beat loud at her door for access. She waltzed through and chooses only the most shattered to share a tango with her. Grief: a cold woman. She does not dare select those who barely know their pain. She picks only those who do not wish to recognize their sorrow.

She had to pick Dean; the most broken of them all.

It only took another swish of the bottle for tears to poise in his eyes. The weight in his chest locked until he was forced to crumple with a high pitched sob. His shoulders jerked in a violent dance that  _hurt_  like holy water burned a black eyed bitch. Dean had the fleeting thought that crying was nothing like in the movies; they cried with too much style. No swollen eyes or bright red blood capsules illuminating the colour of their iris. They could speak and comprehend and breathe. The tears were never prominent enough. He thought they should hang a sign around their Hollywood necks that read, 'Saline solution' during a scene.

Dean wished for only a moment he cried like actors did; no black tracks down the bridge of his nose or apples of the cheeks to the collar bone, pooling in the cavities there. No dark stains melting into light grey shirts. No salted compositions falling through parted lips on to taste buds unprepared for the tang of sorrow.

His crying was both vicious and deafening. He blinked brackish tears from inflamed eyes, his thick lashes stuck together in clumps as if he'd been swimming. His hands shook the bottle, rhythmically swinging the half full flask searching for some violent solution to his pain that he had not already committed.

He hated himself for his feebleness, for his failure… for capital E everything.

Nothing felt right his skin was on the wrong body, it itched. He scratched until he was raw. Bleeding in one place or another he slowly walked upstairs. He contemplated if falling back down would hurt enough to render him comatose.

He made it to the bed.

It was too large for only him. He had always shared a room with someone else. He feared the emptiness would carry him to morning. His hands were too cold. Was Cas cold too? He wanted to claw at his skin again.

He slept instead.

* * *

Morning was the eye of the storm. Morning was always the eye of the storm.

Dean listened for sounds throughout the house to follow them to company. The silence that answered back was deafening. Thunder cracked wildly outside, shaking the frame to the house. He remembered now; the woman in the rain, the abduction. Dean shook his head.

He had to cover the windows to the Impala. He vaguely remembered them breaking over the painful throbs and pulses in his skull, not a sharp pain like a knife-inflicted wound, but more of a dull pounding with a hammer over...and over...and over again.

Dean rose from bed, it was now or never. On his way to the kitchen for Saran wrap Dean noted the flashing LED light on his phone.

 _14 New Messages_.

"Well, aren't I damn popular?"

All were from Sam, asking why he had prayed to Gabriel, if he was okay, did they need to stop by. He had almost forgotten about the drunken prayer he sent the blond angel. He'd leave it be for now, company sounded like a migraine.

Just as he opened the front door, he was met with the hard flat plane of a woodsy smelling man. The smell was not unfamiliar to him, not by any means.

"Sam, what are you doing here?" Dean growled, stomping over to the car. He was trying to avoid confrontation.

Sam made a pinched off face that Dean quickly labeled as a new bitch face. He did not seem like he was going to answer as Dean began protecting the interior of baby with plastic wrap, "You didn't answer any of my texts," Dean barked a laugh at that.

"You mean all one hundred of them?" He slowly grazed the front of the car to get the other two windows.

"Dean, I know there were not a hundred of them. Is everything okay? You seem off," Dean snorted again, "more off than usual."

Damn that kid and his sixth sense. He should get an award for that. Dean pensively gazed at his work before making his way inside, beckoning his brother after him. Sam wasted no time in following him.

Both sat in the living room on the account the sitting room wrecked of whisky and likely had glass and a few bottles scattered around. The silence was drawn out by Dean's unwillingness to discuss what had happened.

_What if Sam hates me? What if he thinks I can't care for Cas and the baby? What if we can't find Cas and the baby? What if-_

"Dean, if I came here just to sit and stare deeply into your eyes, I could have just stayed at the motel. Where is Cas anyway?"

Dean gulped, he had to say it now, "Something got him… Something… Bad," Dean's voice cracked at the end. Damn hangovers and emotions to hell.

Sam pulled his brother to his chest. It was warm and his head fit perfectly underneath his brother's chin. His breathing evened out. He could do this, he could tell Sam, and he could get help.

"We were going out to get something to snack on for movie night," his breath hitched and Sam ran a comforting hand down his arm pushing away from Dean's face to hear him better, "The weather was muggy and freezing like a cold snap was about to happen and…"

* * *

The car filled with comfortable silence and soft classic rock as the sleek black car drove down the road. A light drizzle began to fall all around them efficiently coating the windshield in tiny droplets. Dark shadows seemed to elongate outside the warmth of the Impala causing the little town to become eerily devoid of people as the wind began to pick up slightly. Within minutes the soft pitter patter of snow gave way to hard poundings of plump, ripe ice. Thunder rolled, loud and obnoxious, overhead before lightning cracked down splitting the word in two.

"Well, this weather went to shit fast," Dean sighed flipping on the windshield wipers and turning up Led Zeppelin just a tad. Castiel closed his eyes and listened to the songs of the outside mixing with the somber notes of the guitar and wind instruments, the drone of soft, singing lulling him into a state of serenity. Soon Dean's own rumbling voice joined the song, just coming in a bit off key. The hunter's small smile captured Castiel's eyes causing his own lips to mimic the motion.

"And she's buying the stairway to Heaven..." the next verse was hummed by the older hunter in a sweet throaty grumble. Castiel reclined backwards in his seat, reveling in the warmth and comfort he received from being in the car together, deciding to forget about his worries. Lightly, he laid a hand over his belly and stroked in slow rhythm to the song.

"And it's whispered that soon if we all call the tune, then the piper will lead us to reason..." Dean looked toward Castiel as a loving grin broke out across his face. He sung the next verse to the angel, watching a crinkling smile break out over his face. Castiel is beau-

"Dean!" Cas yelled causing the Winchester to slam on the breaks and throw his arm out to stop the angel's plunge into the glass windshield. Before them stood a woman shrouded in all black. Death seemed to emit from everywhere as though she was made of the concept. One mutilated hand branched off of her hunched body and floated up through the down pour. The other wriggled around restlessly in all directions, searching for purchase. It made Dean's stomach churn; he had seen some pretty disturbing things but this one took the cake.

"That son-of-a-bitch," the hunter growled low in his throat, "What do you think you're doing you bastard? You coulda..." Dean trailed off as two amber eyes glared at him from outside. There was nothing but the promise of bereavement in those eyes. A high pitched screech pierced the air, breaking the windows off the car and allowing the freshly falling snow to whirl around the couple inside. Castiel had mentioned a severe thundersnow warning before they left; Dean had thought it so domestic before. The snow softened their skin to allow the glass to cut cleanly.

The woman appeared next to the car and reached in for Castiel.

"Don't touch him!" Dean screamed as he threw holy water he had quickly grabbed from the glove department at the distorted woman. It did nothing but simmer lightly on her skin causing the mythical thing to glare at Dean as it took Castiel into its arms. The angel struggled against the creature only succeeding in cutting himself more on the opening of the window.

The hunter fought to get to his angel. It did no good. His hand slid on Cas's wrist from a combination of gore and snow. Both Castiel and the thing were gone before Dean could try and reach them.

A low rumble of thunder sounded through the land, full of sorrow and devoid of its normal powerful crash; resembling a howling cry of wolf separated from the pack. It resonated though Dean's bones shaking his skeleton. Lightning sparked through the clouds in a soft white light as the snow slowed to a misting of the dark expanse of road. Droplets of cold, melted flakes streaked down Dean's face where he had been blasted.

_What the fuck?_

* * *

"… It was so sudden, Sammy. No one saw it coming," there was no use in hiding the sob from his voice. Sam's gaze was no longer on him; the hand on Dean's arm was limp. Dean covered his brother's hand with his own to offer comfort.

"I am so sorry, Dean."

He knew he meant it. He was sorry too.

"We'll find him Sammy, we have to."

"Come with me to Bobby's."

"Okay."

"Okay? Just like that? No fighting," Dean ran a hand down his face. He was too tired and isolated to argue in going somewhere with other people.

Without another word Dean followed Sam outside into their respective cars.

Faintly, under a mask of discomfort, distress, and confusion he heard a voice; as low as a bass and comforting as a mother's caress. Just hazily inside of the deepest crook of his psyche Dean heard his trodden angel for perhaps the last time acerbically cry out to him or perhaps all angels.

_Dean Winchester will save me._


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to send a thousand thank yous to my beta for putting up with my horrible pre-editorial writing skills. Sadly that's impossible and frankly a bit creepy so I'll settle for thank you for giving me a hand to grasp these few days.

Dean paced back and forth within the confines of Bobby's old, dusty study. He would start at the farthest left corner of the room and make his way to the far right corner diagonally. It was beginning to give Sam a headache.

"Dude, chill. You're hurting my eyes," the dark haired hunter complained, glaring at his older brother. The latter looked over his shoulder and gave the most feral growl of all feral growls. Sam probably would have bolted, if Dean didn’t need him right this moment.

"I let this happen, Sam. I'm supposed to protect him!" Dean yelled continuing his pacing; to and fro, to and fro. Sam gave his brother a halfhearted bitch face before standing in front of him and forcing him to stop. He placed a comforting hand on Dean’s shoulder staring deeply into Dean's emerald green eyes – it almost freaked Dean out how serious his younger brother and partner in crime could turn, "Gabe has all his sights out for Cas, all we have to do is be patient. We just have to wait for something, anything."

Dean could agree with that line of thought… but standing here waiting for some kind of angelic miracle and doing nothing just was not fucking sitting with him, oh no. The hunter looked at Sam, scrutinizing him, before he turned on his heel and high-tailed it outside. He needed some good old fashioned quiet time away from everyone who told him everything would be alright.

It was a cold January afternoon, the sun was hidden behind a layer of thick clouds; they were expecting snow. The thought of snow –Hell the thought of the color grey – pissed Dean off like a bull seeing red. It made him want to strangle something, preferably dark shadows that stole pretty angels, his angel. In fact, he almost did strangle a shadow when Bobby walked up behind him to question what he was doing.

"Boy, what the hell do you think you’re doing standing here with no jacket or nothing?" Not Bobby treating him like a little kid too! He was fine for fucks sake. They needed to stop worrying about him and worry about Cas! Cas needed help, not him!

Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He really didn't have time for this: his thoughts or the worry that everyone seemed to want to throw at him. Everyone just needed to take a trip to Hell for about an hour. "I'm waiting for God to take his pity on me. To smite me into oblivion," he smiled slightly at his own dry humor.

"Dean, this isn't good for yah. Get inside and have a beer; we'll continue looking for your feathery friend," Bobby vocalized as sympathetically as he could before sauntering over to the large house, Dean in tow. The older hunter had been good to him these past days, showing him the kindness he needed; even though the Dean found the act nothing but annoying. As they entered the house, they noticed a new presence, Gabriel…. Gabriel in Sam's…. arms…. Ehem.

Gabriel in Sam's arm. Kissing him. Very passionately.

"Hey! Take that upstairs or something. I don't wanna see what angel sex is like," Bobby interrupted with a snort as they pulled back, a blushing mess. Well, Sam was a blushing mess. Gabriel seemed to be just fine being caught lip locking with the hunter. That is, until after he caught Dean's evil eye. Since when did this little relationship happen? How could Sam have the nerve to go behind his back and start a relationship with Castiel’s brother?

"Uh, hi," Gabriel lamely addressed the other, dipping his head down the escape the Winchester's heavy gaze. The room screamed awkward as the small angel scrambled ten feet away from his moose.

Bobby sighed as he turned back to the desk, "I s'pose you're here to help us find your little angel brother and not just lip lock with poor Sam."

"Riiight," Gabriel drawled, pulling up a chair and sitting far from Dean. The mentioned grunted as he waltzed over to the kitchen to grab a beer – or a case. The amount of drinks (beer, whiskey, and whatever else was at hand) Dean drank before paled in comparison to the cases of alcohol he had now. Sam was almost positive Dean could have taken two baths and a long shower with the alcohol he had consumed. The blond slowly made his way back into the study before plopping down in the most comfortable chair he could find.

A rushed sigh left Sam's lips as he looked over at Gabe to begin questioning the archangel, "You wouldn't happen to know where he could have been taken?"

Gabe tilted his head as a sad chuckle left his throat. He would need more information than what the boys had given him. A lot more, "Dean, can you recall what this guy looked like, maybe anything that would help?" Gabriel questioned lightly, no need to piss off the trained killer more than he already was.

Dean's face darkened, of course he could remember. He had burned its disgusting face into his brain, "It was clearly not really a person. It's face looked like a thousand kinds of messed up. And his eyes… they were a bright amber, calculating. He reeked like something that died Years ago and he kept chanting in some weird-ass language," Dean described it all like he was talking about a coyote he saw standing on the back porch. And although Sam chuckled, Gabriel's eyes darkened drastically. These boys really didn't know what they were dealing with.

“Sounds like the thing we’re hunting, Sam”

"Oh shit," the humor from before made his head dizzy, this was not good at all.

“What? Who are you hunting? Sam-“

" Lamashtu. She is a like a torturer of all things men and children," Gabriel calmly explained. Really, mud monkeys could be so difficult, books were plentiful.

“So, what is she doing with my angel?" Dean snarled. He was so fed up with this supernatural shit. He just wanted to curl up and scream. More than that he wanted to kill anything that was not just a normal human and stuff them where the sun don’t shine. His angel being exempt of course.

"Ehem… His name is Castiel, thank you," Gabriel glared at the hunter, "Buuut, the bitch probably caught wind he was with child. Do you know how many would kill for a Nephilim? You're and Cas's-"

"What now?" Dean interrupted angrily. Again with the paranormal shit – someone shoot him now.

Gabe rolled his eyes over dramatically. How dumb could they get? "Dimidium angelus, Deano. Half angel half human, don't 'cha know anything?" The archangel stressed, quite annoyed. Dean was beginning to seriously piss him off with all of his glorified ignorance. He was about done with humans for the next century… maybe he could make his moose an angel.

"I… wow. I hadn't thought of that…" Dean sighed. How could he not have let the thought cross his mind? Of course the kid would be a half breed. In all this time, he was only thinking of Castiel – their unborn child at the far back of his mind.

Sam gawked at the statement his brother had just made. In all this time, he had never thought about how his unborn child may be fairing? Sometimes, Dean was just a serious douche. Not caring at all about how his kid might  be dead or injured in some way shape or form…. Okay, morbid.

Gabe stared at Dean as if he expected some sort of unfunny joke to follow that, or a pun, or just something. He began to shake out of anger. This mortal was going a bit too far with common stupidity. Was he truly so asinine? "Winchester that is my nephew you are talking about. I will not stand to see you let him be killed by a demonic fucker." Dean was just as quick to raise his voice in defense, screaming out how that was not going to happen. Bitching and moaning that thinking about Castiel was just the same as thinking of the baby.

"Can both of ya'll just shut up? Ya idjits..." Bobby trailed in distress. They had been at one another's neck ever since they called the archangel down for help last week. He was almost ready to kick all of them out where they'd get no help from him. Keeping everyone, including himself, from murdering someone else in his house was hardly worth the migraine he received.

Sam looked over at Bobby apologetically. He knew that this was not getting them anywhere. But, it would have to do for now, seeing that they needed Gabriel's extensive knowledge on the subject. The youngest hunter decided it was time for him to make a peep, "You know if we worked together," he stressed the ill sacred word, "we may actually be able to bring both Cas and the baby back alive…"

"Sammy's right. We need to quit arguing or we may have nothing to look forward to," Dean's eyes lowered as he thought about all the terrible things that may be happening to his poor angel right now; rape, torture and maybe even death. They had to act fast and every second they spent arguing was another second they wasted by not trying to find Cas. He downed another beer in record speed. Really, the guy needed an intervention.

"We need a plan."

All heads turned to Gabriel; they expected a great deal out of him it seemed – like starved wolves staring at a large deer; all too eager to dig in but not willing to do the work.

"What? I don't always have an answer!"

"Where can we find this Lamashtu son-of-a-bitch?"

Gabe sighed, "Usually in the abyss."

"You mean between a girl’s legs at the bar?”

"Har Har Dean…"

"Shut it, Sam. I’m just trying to lighten the mood a little. Everyone’s been a little too vicious for my liking."

"Good guess Deano, but more along the lines of Kurnugia."

Both brothers stared at the angel. Great, book work, more time wasted…

* * *

* * *

 

"So get this," Sam blurted out one night after a long period of staring at his laptop and desperately trying to find something, anything, that might help their search.

"What?" Dean asked groggily, lifting his head from a stack of recent newspaper clippings. He had the luxury of reading every single newspaper article since Cas had gone MIA almost a month prior. So far, he was getting nowhere fast.

"Police reports in California depict odd rituals by college frat students - deforming themselves, wearing jackal masks, and praising Godmother Nightmare.”

Dean sat up a bit straighter, "Anything else?” Sam vigorously nodded in reply as he continued reading.

“Yeah, all sorts of things – no manmade structures are ever found BUT rings of stones, pillars, trees, wooden blocks, a pit in the ground, or a flat rock are found at entrances into underground places of worship that represent the entrance to the goddess’s underworld domain. They typically are found on the outskirts of civilization, or in the true wilderness, and many are stained with blood and littered with the remains of failed births and vics - healthy, normal looking people deemed ‘the successful ones’.”

"Well, boys, looks like we're going to Cali! Pack your bags, let's go, go, go people!"

Not more than half an hour later, they were packed in a now very cramped impala, chasing murmurs in the wind.

* * *

 

Dean could not recall how long they had been driving. It seemed like years.

He checked the rear view; Gabriel was staring continuously out of the window giving no signs he was going to do much else. Sam had climbed back with him at the last truck stop. He seemed almost too still; the archangel must make a great cushion.

The hunter wanted nothing else than for the light chatter from hours before to return. The car was too quiet. His breathing was too controlled. Gabriel seemed to be judging him through the silence. It was all grating on his nerves. Worse yet, he was stuck within his own mind.

His consciousness appeared to have gotten lost there. He could vaguely distinguish Enochian in the back rooms of his head. With every mile closer to the angel’s location the mantra got louder; with ever mile closer to his lover and child, the bond between himself and Castiel got stronger. To him, it proved to be the only reason to continue driving. To hear that loud throaty voice after thirty, forty, fifty days – he had lost count – was equivalent to sex for the first time. One part thrilling, two parts terrifying.

With every bit of excitement he could muster, with as much love and care as he could fathom, he spoke out to his guardian angel for the first time in days.

_I swore I’d never leave you._

He waited in silence. It was terrifying, heartbreaking, and defeating, but expected all at the same time.

_Yes, yes you did_. Came the reply.

And the moral boost powered him until the sun rose. His taut shoulders relaxed; Gabriel no longer seemed hypercritical but at ease; Sam stirred and snored sleeping soundly.

The shadows at the end of the highway tunnel elongated, now only another six-hundred sixty-four miles to go.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want more information of the Goddess mentioned? http://pathfinder.wikia.com/wiki/Lamashtu is where I got most if not all of my information.

A heavy trail, left in the wake of a woman pulling a much larger object, swirled dust into the cool night air. Arms dragged limply across a beaten path as the object was dragged away from the clear night sky. "Wake up," cooed an antediluvian voice, "Wake up and see where I have brought you," at the sound of the voice the entity opened its pure blue abysses just a crack before they stretched in surprise.

He’d imagined a cesspool of dead, expected rotting bodies or mutilated, still half alive people. He instead received a beautiful underground home. Centered in the room a cascading fountain softly gurgled down smooth rock into a pool of water so clear it seemed to glow with a pure inner intention. Natural light bled through manmade holes. No shadows existed under the pale yellow light.

"Gorgeous..." Castiel whispered; eyes scanning over every little detail, every little carving. The angel's battered mind seemed to forget he was not the only one present in the tranquil oasis. His brain appeared to have neglected to hold onto his knowledge, forgetting that he was here as a captive and not a free visitor.

He took in all of the dreamlike features. His eyes ate up the scene and seared it into his mind like a claim on his grace; afraid the magnificence would be swiped away, never to return. That the ugliness of the world outside, the blemish of society would be dumped back into his lap and he would be forced to watch what he was told to love wither and die once more.

"Yes, it is," a voice that seemed so suggestive and passionate earlier had turned to a malevolent hiss that shook Cas to the very bone. The voice that came out of that barely visible mouth was anything but pleasurable. It replaced anything Castiel had ever known to be as horrific and multiplied it in quantities he could not even calculate. It brought him back to his reality just as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped on his head. Forget what he had ever said about the human race being ugly, this thing that he was listening to was the epitome of vile.

Gulping down the lump that decided to show up in his throat, Castiel began to speak with feigned confidence, "Who are you?” He was glad to hear that his voice was not shaking.

The creature's 'mouth' moved up at the corners to be what must have been a sardonic smirk. This movement showed horrific yellowed canines - the tips crusted with what must have been centuries of dried blood. A gray tongue snaked out to run over black, molding gums before it opened its mouth to a wide hole, a terrible, obnoxious cackle slipping out through thin, cracked lips, "Who am I? Oh Little One they do not teach you enough..."

With the grace of a large panther, the warped human circled Castiel, "I go by many names, Mother of Beasts, Mistress of Insanity, Grandmother Nightmare; Lamashtu. I am merely but a servant today.” Cas's weary eyes followed Lamashtu around as she made a full circle. He knew this God, this creature, by name. His knees began to quake with fear and trepidation. He did his best to still his heart and breathing which were becoming erratic very quickly.

"Then why take on this form? To look like something you detest is absurd."

"Detest? Oh no, you misunderstand," Lamashtu chimed, "I love humans. Their flaws and weaknesses there for me to extort." for a while, the Mother seemed to be happy with her answer. However, the contemplating look upon her face brought Castiel to believe otherwise.

"Love, yes, I love all the vile. But maybe you are fishing for the true Lamashtu?" the question cut through the silence like a sharp piece of thin glass, allowing the tension to slip tenaciously through. Both sat staring one another square in the eye - blue covered by a false boredom and mock interest, attempting to hide the fear and curiosity hidden within. Much to the angel's disappointment, Lamashtu saw right through his act.

"It is all right, Little One. Just a glimpse? I won't burn your eyes out like you mean ol' angels."

Without Castiel's immediate consent, the malformations began to morph and change into something much larger than the humanoid structure they held now. Great pointed ears began to putrid from the now browning, furry skin that was elongating into a snout. The stretchy skin moved away from the ears - now a glimmering ebony - and the scalp down to form an opening around a third amber eye. The triad seemed to glow in pure joy before closing and allowed the sickly fur to wash over the lids.

Skin gave way arms to towering wings, black and feathered, akin to a raven. A heavily pregnant belly emerged from abnormal skin along her side. Long, green tinted claws scratched and tore at long furred legs. They scrapped and skittered at everything within range of their angry movements. One caught Castiel across the face, drawing slowly oozing blood. As if to jab a knife in an already open wound, a long, thick, snake’s tail appeared from the last whims of skin. The tail moved back and forth in an agitated cat like movement swishing grey swirls all around the atrocious appendage.

Castiel gawked at what the Mistress had become. The cut on his face long forgotten and the terror buried behind awe. He began to hyperventilate again. A tongue, grey as an elephant and long as a boa constrictor, snaked out of her snout and trailed the blood up the dazed angel's face. Mortification and utter disgust were made evident in the angel's body language.

"Stop it!" the angel stuttered, slinking away from this thing that presented itself to him. His stomach had begun to twist and turn, attempting to crawl up and out of his throat and lay in revulsion on the cavern floor. Castiel held his belly urging it to keep still and take it.

The tales told of a myth worshipped by harpies and gnolls; not a creature to be gazed upon, "I am a demon, much like any of the others, Castiel. You’re used to seeing their faces aren’t you? Only my worshippers are allowed to see this form, consider yourself special."

Castiel shook his head vigorously; he had never seen a demon such as this. Lamashtu commanded attention. Made those who gazed upon her want to stare straight at her in wonder no matter how badly they wanted to turn tail, scream, or run, or all three. Cas's shallow, quick breathing finally caught up in his head. In a wave of vertigo, Cas fell to the ground.

"Like what you see, Little One?" Lamashtu cackled as she slowly moved toward the immobile man. Cas attempted to stand to run away. He wanted safety and reassurance. The moment he chose to stand, he found that his legs were completely and utterly useless. They buckled under him sending him crashing back to the hard floor below, bruising his body thoroughly.

I'm going to die here. With my unborn child… With… Dean's….

Castiel squeezed his eyes shut as he covered his lower belly – praying for everything to be alright.

"How about dinner? I have a young, beautiful angel as my partner may as well utilize my time," Lamashtu slowly morphed into a mostly human form, a few of the features a little off and more than disturbing. Then, with a saunter that would kill even the most patient of people the half woman made her way over to the shell shocked messenger of God.

"I have nothing against you, but you make one wrong move and I will kill that oh-so-precious child of yours right here and now…" The demon hissed lowly in Castiel's ear before she suggestively licked the shell. This impure act almost made Castiel bolt right then and there. But for the sake of his – their – child, he refrained from moving even an inch.

"That's perfect, Little One. So how about it, will you dine with me?”

* * *

* * *

 

_"Stop! Please stop it!" Castiel screeched. There was so much pain coursing through his body. Indescribable agony that coursed through every vein in his body that made him scream with every movement of his muscles. The demons around him chuckled darkly, waiting their turn for the angel patiently. Cooing soft, sweet nothing at him and drawling cat calls – an orgy of intense hurt._

_"Why? Plea-ease s-top," his broken pleas fell on deaf ears as dark claws raked down his back. There were so many of them there, tormenting him._

_A claw made its way to his throat and…_

Cas woke with a start, sweat pouring down his face and tears in his eyes. He was chained to a wall hand cuffs, a new addition he noted, lightly digging into his skin from being too tight. They were settled comfortably by his side so he figured he had nothing to complain about. They were a warning to him, ‘escape is futile and you’re trapped’. He gazed up at the cuffs, contemplating their strength and his speed.

As far as he could tell he’d been left to himself, settled on a hard cot with a thin blanket covering his lower body. A chill settled deep in his bones and made him ache throughout his entire body. The seraph figured he could use a warm shot of whiskey to at least light a small flame within him, but that was never going to happen.

Over to the angel’s left was what he supposed was his meal for the day. Bread, crackers, cheese, and a pitcher of water that smelled like raw meat and sewage. It was always the same, but he supposed it was better than nothing. "Eat Little One," the blood boiling voice of Lamashtu quietly commanded. He was so tired of that voice that he almost wished the demon would get a new one just for a day.

"No," the angel said with a sure headed cockiness. He had no need for sustenance.

"No?" the demon questioned right back in a low growl. Castiel's stomach cried out in pain when he looked submissively down at the food. It was for the baby, not him. It would never be for him anymore, he realized. With deliberately slow movements, Cas reached out for a cracker, nibbling softly at it as his wrists screamed at him with a steady beat of pain.

"Have some water," Lamashtu requested softly. The angel knew better then to refuse this time. He took the water graciously and tried to swallow it without breathing in the pugnacity odor. That's when he noticed a young boy behind the Mistress.

“His name is Jesse. He will take care of your wounds.”

Castiel almost breathed a sigh of relief as she exited the room, but he could not let his guard down yet.

"She told me not to talk to you, but I remember you,” the boy smirked rebelliously. his drawl was soft and sweet, not menacing at all, still. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion he remembered Jesse as well and not fondly, "I'm not a here because I wanna be if that's what you are wondering," Castiel sighed in resignation. He seemed to be telling the truth. If he could make even one ally here, this boy may as well be it. It’s all just for strategy, his mind consoled, not weakness.

Jesse grabbed a rag from a basket of supplies and began dabbing at the wounds that had already dried, leaving the fresh ones alone. Castiel got a good look at him as he sat between his legs, scrubbing off the crusted blood. His time with Lamashtu had not been kind it seemed.

"You're not as strong as you used to be, are you?" he questioned out of the blue. Jesse had begun to clean the still opened wounds and was innocently attempting to steal the angel's attention away from him doing so. It was a very sweet gesture, he did not want him to feel pain and Castiel was grateful for that.

"I am still angel of the lord," Cas replied stoically. He did not feel like speaking much to this Halfling, especially if Lamashtu had advised him otherwise. He was going to keep a strictly business relationship and hope the blame was not settled completely on him, if they were caught talking. It wasn't that he hated the boy. He didn't like the thought of the child being hurt, but Cas would rather protect the child inside himself.

He thought a moment, a serious look etched into his soft features, "Huh, you could work some sort of miracle and get us out of here?" he said, unsure of what he was really implying. After he’d said goodbye to his parents, this was the only life he’d known.

Castiel stared at Jesse long and hard. He wondered if he would understand or ask him to elaborate. He decided to take his chances, "I am… Broken."

"Broken? Broken like how?" Castiel sighed; he knew the cambion would be a little too sheltered to understand. He should have just not answered, kept to himself, it would have been better for the boy that way.

"Broken like we are not getting out of here broken."

Jesse narrowed his eyes at the angel. He wanted to kick and scream at the answer, angels do not just break; they were heavenly beings for God's sake. Maybe all of the stories he’d heard were wrong.

Jesse exhaled and pulled a few pieces of venison jerky out offering them up to the angel and deciding he could just steal some of his crackers, "Here, it will be better than bread and crackers."

Cas took the jerky with gratitude. He decided that Jesse was a good ally. They needed to work together to get out of here alive and he was prepared to share all the jerky in the world with him when they were out.

"I will repay you in pounds of jerky when we escape. If we escape," he didn't know why he was sharing his thought, but he did not mind. It made him smile in that innocent way children smile and warmed Castiel’s heart… he had not realized how much he missed companionship. Now that it had his attention he felt much more starved for than for the physical food he had been forced to eat.

“I’ve been here since those hunters left. You’d probably like to know only a few of you come through a year –"

"Angels come through here?"

"Well, not angels, but not human things. Lamashtu loves things that are impure so it’s usually a werewolf here, a vampire there. It's a weird thing I guess, but I see it all the time so I guess I don’t mind.

I used to believe people like you were too sacred to capture which is why I never saw angels. You must be pretty corrupt," Jesse smiled up at Castiel as he finished wrapping his wounds. The angel frowned deeply, people seemed to think that a lot.

"I am not-"

Jesse interrupted before Cas could argue, "I don’t think I got your name!"

"Casti-" God dammit people and their inter-

"Angel, Jesse…”

God dammit!

"I believe I told you not to interact with our guest. What are you doing?"

Jesse froze. He was prepared to take the full blame, prepared to die for his old enemy new friend. But he would have to find a way to prolong his death to get information to the angel. Ways to get out.

"M-mistress," Jesse bowed his head, "it was my fault, he is innocent,” Castiel stared wide eyed at the child. It'll be okay, Cas; he could hear his thoughts loud and clear in his mind.

"I see, Jesse, come with me," Lamashtu, who had once again taken the vessel of a decrepit old woman while away, sighed.

May my father stay with you child. I hope you know what you are doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was writing I really thought, "How in the hell am I going to work a goddess and of course a resolution into this?" and that is when my Beta and myself decided to give closure to poor Jesse. And here we are.
> 
> Kudos earn you my respect; comments earn you a new chapter. And please if you have any suggestions for upcoming events, the baby, or how to make a souffle; I love hearing from every one of you.


	10. Chapter 10

Castiel had lost track of the days in his lonely stupor. Long and harsh, day bled into night until they spun together in a tangle of dull yellow and deep blue. Grey painted every scene Castiel laid his eyes upon until he gave up looking.

Jesse returned, battered, days later; his body painted in the hue bulls see, caved in. Black hickies marred his skin. His eyes resembled a panda. But still, with remarkable charisma, he muttered that he was more desirable now.

"Guess I'm sort of a bad boy, huh?"

Castiel smiled, but withheld judging words. He wanted to scream that the katako was more than what he deemed himself, was more than the label of sin.

"How did you end up here?" Castiel inquired instead.

"I had to leave my family, remember? I was a scared kid with everything holy, hell-sent and immortal on my tail. I did fine for a while; had a blast even. Then one day it was gone; the surging power and epic abilities. It felt like I hit a brick wall and I just couldn't use them anymore.

Lamashtu found me; knew what I was. She grabbed me up telling me how much she adored me. I just let her take me in. I wish I'd ran," Jesse's lips became a tight line – a seal between Castiel and answers.

"Running never solves anything. I learned that the most difficult of ways," Castiel counted the cracks in the wall. Jessie may have his secrets, but Castiel's would turn the world sideways. He fancied the world where it stood.

He assumed Jesse understood because he did not question further. He leaned up against the wall beside Castiel; shoulder to shoulder with the angel. His breath was soft, but reassuring.

"Sometimes I think back and wish I'd let you kill me. Beats this place."

"You have a family to return to, Jesse. We will get out of this."

The cambion snorted half-humorously and let the conversation drop. Tar like silence filled the gaps between tension and anxiety. Castiel wanted to speak, but feared Jesse would stay quiet.

"Lamashtu banished me out here, you know? Says I am no longer the beautiful disgrace she once loved. If anything, I think she believed I actually cared," Jesse laughed with the whole-hearted innocence bred into a young person; strong and healthy, nothing like his broken somber appearance. His neck tilted back until the crown of his head was flush with the wall of the room. His mouth gaped, tilting up at the sides in a painful grin. His eyes scrunched attempting to block out the place he was stationed in and enjoy himself.

Castiel could not watch.

Jesse began to cry.

Castiel listened. Listened to the first heart plummeting shudder of breath after the final note of lilting laughter; listened to the pause of confusion as the first warm tears cascaded from creased eyes; listened to the soft whimper of resignation when his shoulders shook from the uncontrollable rage and agony; listened to the harsh, livid, lurid, raucous rumble of a howl that tore through his vocal chords.

Jesse tore at his eyes in ire. He wanted the tears to stop. He wanted the ache to stop. He wanted it all to stop. He wished he had died. Better yet, he wished that he had never been born.

He drove his fist into the wall even as the angel laid a warm hand on his bicep. He ground his knuckles against the plaster and sheet rock that hindered his hand from busting fully through. Curses fell from soft lips in punitive shrieks.

He pounded at the wall again.

And once more.

Castiel said nothing, but gripped the boy's shoulder, turning his head away, giving Jesse this moment of defeat.

Eons passed before Jesse breathed the cool air of peace. Castiel slid a hand down his back. The calm of the storm brushed against their warm skin. Lightning sizzled in the air between them – sparking white and blue in a gust of empathy lingering on passion. The figurative pedestal crumbled. Castiel felt the rumble beneath his feet as Jesse embraced him burying his wet face on his soiled shirt. Castiel felt power ripple beneath his skin just before everything collapsed.

He bonded the righteous man.

He bred his nephilim to bring absolute purity into the world.

He held the antichrist.

He watched it all fall. His grace shrank from the 'evil incarnate.' Impurity blended with the unformed soul of his child. Castiel wanted to laugh – truly, honestly wanted to laugh, to skip, to continue hugging Jesse. His child, Dean's child, would bear the brink of the world.

He pulled back from Jesse and smiled softly. He grey drained away from Castiel's vision in swirls of blond and green. He wanted to say thank you, but he did not know what for.

"She – uh – took off the cuffs?" Jesse's voice cracked and split.

Castiel gazed down at the dark bruises and cuts that would likely scar over their material, "Yes, not long after she took you. She did not want me to 'get hurt,'" he paused, "her words, not mine." Jesse grunted and rolled his eyes.

Angel and antichrist dozed for hours after the emotional escapade. The two were too worn to converse. They lay supported against the other facing the door. Jesse had positioned himself slightly in front of the angel to which Castiel did not comment on. He appreciated the gesture of protection Jesse provided for him.

Finally the katako spoke sleepily, "Hey, Castiel?" The angel hummed an acknowledgement. "Do you think, I could…you know…feel the baby? It sounds weird now, but I might not get another chance, you know?"

Castiel nodded. The last time he had permitted someone else to touch him he had been in the safety of his home, with his family. The nostalgia comforted him. Jesse placed his smaller hand on the lower portion of the angel's swollen abdomen, "I don't feel anything…"

Castiel smiled, "That is because he does not sit there." He stroked above his belly button, feeling a soft foot kick through. He took Jesse's hand and laid it upon the area allowing the boy to survey the area and find the next kick. A foot pushed back against his hand and he jumped as if a he had been shocked.

"Whoa," Jesse laughed blissfully.

Castiel laughed as well; the sound lilting and breathy to his own ears – untrained and foreign.

He opened his eyes and saw once more.

* * *

 

 Lemashtu evidently found other ways to occupy her time. Jesse had filled Castiel in on time gaps and current events – three weeks had passed since he had last seen the goddess.

Jesse and Castiel celebrated thirty-two weeks of so far successful pregnancy; that is how he learned it was March and he had missed Dean's birthday. Secretly he gave his lover a blessing toward another year; beneath the quick chatter from Jesse and the light prayers from himself. Jesse seemed healthier. It was almost as if being around the nephilim gave Jesse a new jolt of life.

Jesse and Castiel settled into a routine of sorts. When they woke up in the morning, they ate whatever food that had been left for them. Then they curled up together and talked about anything mundane and normal. It was relaxing and under this calm Jesse, Castiel, and the unborn child thrived. Of course, like everything else in the angel's life, this era of peace had to be ripped from his fingers.

Castiel pinned catastrophe as a human flaw; something that could be avoided, that feeble minds were always tricked into. But it starts as a low grumble – resonating through every action and course of event until it is racing in front of you to the finish line and you're left standing on the side of the track wondering where did I fuck up? That within moments a monotonous situation can erupt into a monstrous shriek that sits you on your ass and tells you to shut it or face the consequences. Castiel was left spinning in an endless circle continuously asking why? Why?! Why?!! Because that was all that was left to do.

He observed the bridge crumble just to sit back in child's pose and tune out the dire situation, because he was done letting life batter him to oblivion and back. He no longer wanted a part in humanity, if it meant dealing with the vile things. And as vile things go, they surround you in a suffocating ring, drown out the good, replace the beauty, and destroy the wonder. So he decided he was done with humanity.

Lamashtu had a plan and that was to corrupt what was already corrupted – so sorry Miss. Bitch, been there, done that.

On the day she returned, the angel and antichrist had been talking softly. They found comfort in their conversations about ordinary things. They discussed the things they remembered about life and, now, felt they had failed to appreciate properly. To them it was almost like not being present in the hell hole they found themselves in.

"Angel! Come here, now," she growled fluidly. Castiel wasted no time in making himself the center of her attention. He was fuller now, obviously pregnant, and found the added weight did not aid him in walking.

Lamashtu led him through countless hallways far from where he and Jesse were staying. The pathways weaved and connected – a web through the home. It suited the black widow he was dutifully following.

The room they arrived in was dark and smelled sickly, cloying, and sweet all at once – copper and sewage – death.

Lamastu spoke in a guttural language. Castiel tried to place it instead of listening to her.

Lamastu's amber eyes fell upon him. He attempted not to jump and prayed she had not asked him a question. She turned back to the darkness. Castiel could make out pitch black cloaks that lined the walls; her worshippers no less.

The Mistress turned to push Castiel softly to the ground forcing him to sit on the dusty and unwashed floor. She motioned to a worshiper in elaborate robes who moved to the back of the room. As the follower backed away from the dim corner a man dressed down and covered in shallow cuts trailed Robes to the center of the room.

"You stand trial for disgracing the mytho-" Robes spoke now. The soft baritone of a woman's voice carried through the air.

Lamashtu doubled over laughing, "Oh just kill the blind fool. He's a folly of a man," She crooned.

The women, Castiel could tell now, thrashed around the man. He could hear the pounding of hard flesh and bone against plaint skin and muscle. Each new crunch had Castiel gaging.

Humans – radiant, beautiful, exultant creations of God – pliable, broken, miserable humans.

Humanity, human beings collectively, were to be humane and benevolent. They were to show brotherly love, fraternity, philanthropy, sympathy, tolerance, and yet he watched in horror as they brutalized this man for being just that: a man.

The man wailed until he was hoarse; continued until he was forced into silence; kept his mouth open until his jaw went slack from a strike to the head. He was forced to sleep the slumber of the surrendered early.

The angel whimpered and closed his eyes when the worshippers stepped back from their crime. The man, now presumably dead, slumped to the floor – eyes rolled to the back of his head, head lolled to the side in a sickening manner.

Lamashtu leered at the body. She brushed a hairy hand though Castiel's brunet locks as she passed before laying upon the dead man. She whispered something in the same throaty language to the man.

"Leave the angel here."

The worshipers lit the room before leaving Castiel alone with the deceased.

Castiel corkscrewed his eyes. He would not look at the departed. This was a sacred moment for a soul. Castiel was no longer the angel he used to be; he feared one peak and the man would be damned.

The angel felt the energy in the room plummet; the soul passed with no complication.

He felt it was now right to say his condolences and view the body. He would leave a small prayer and blessing then scurry to the farthest corner.

His baby blues landed on the figure before him. Vomit pooled in his pallet, but he swallowed down his disgust.

Time slowed, his breath caught in his throat. Tears pricked like needles in half-lidded eyes. He wanted to bawl at the top of his lungs, but couldn't find the strength.

He met eye to widened eye with himself.

A silent warning.

_ You are going to die here, Angel, and there is no escaping. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally after what seems like years I am able to start working once more! What with a nice vacation and hell to pay with my beta i feel like you readers deserve and update. 
> 
> If you read End Notes let me know down in the comments; it's for science.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot apologize enough for the belated update. What with a vacation to the east coast and complications with my beta I'm surprised I can even get this up now. Sadly, the semester starts back up Tuesday which means, that's right readers, more belated updates. I'll try to stick to once a week, maybe once every couple; our story comes to a closing soon anyhow. 
> 
> This chapter is unbeta'd for now; I will reupload it once there has been editing. All errors are my own; please point them out.

Lights illuminated the white confinements; snowy imprisonments became the focus of candy green eyes. The monotonous task had heavy minds slipping. The radio still miraculously worked despite the overuse; the tape had gone dry hours ago. The mind of the fixated driver was eviscerated without the noise.

Impact; a cacophony of sounds blasted at top volume; a tidal wave of popping, an aria of exploding, the sad clapping of hard metal cutting into soft tree. The crunching alloy gave way to shattering glass and startled gasps. Silence - pure and instinctual, a hunter stalking its prey ready for the pounce – spread through the cab. The radio gurgled before the track began again.

Pain; white hot pain crushed the driver and claimed him as its prize. His vision faded – coal black frayed at the edges giving way to bright colours, full of a spectrum he'd never seen before.

His cocked head faced a man in the passenger side. He appeared stock still; dull and lifeless. His neck protruded at an impossible angle. He could barely make out the twisted shape of the man behind him scrunched between the smashed rear end and driver's seat.

Dean rushed back to his senses and veered. The car behind him honked excessively until he was able to right his car. He'd briefly read about highway hypnosis years ago but things like that do not happen to Dean Winchester.

Or so he thought.

Another theory proved incorrect.

Plenty of wrongs had to eventually make a right. Winchester luck had to at least prove that.

Dean calmed his erratic heart to a steady thud against his sore ribs. His back ached from the constant upright position of his bench seats; his stomach ached from the greasy road food. His hips needed kneading to relieve their tension. His organs needed more substance than salt. He wished someone was awake enough for him to bitch.

He shifted, the leather interior smoothing the transition as he realigned the plates of his spine – cracking his back at the obliques.

"Mmh, Dean, stop," limp and laced with sleep Sam poked his brother in the side.

Yellow and orange blended on the horizon beneath the dark hue of midnight. A large glowing sphere rose lethargically into the pastels of water laden clouds. The sun ascended, the sky in the west a booming azure accenting its passing. Gold flecked eyes basked in the rising sun; taking in the wonder, outputting awe.

Dean smiled at the other hunter. Gabriel gave a small huff of amusement. Sam gave the archangel a soft smile; eyes crinkling, lips stretching over white teeth.

"Thanks for almost killing us Dean-o," Dean flushed rubbing a hand over tired eyes.

Everyone would be forced to sleep in the car from then on.

* * *

 

Light filtered through heavy trees trapping in cool fog. Damp, earthy, lives filled smells wafted through the underbrush tickling Dean's nose. The hunter brushed against moss attached to a rather large tree; dew bonding on his skin. A companionable hush followed the group in a silent consensus.

The lull before the disaster.

The excitement before the game.       

The calm before the storm.

Dean's high alert had kicked in; his knife barred against his forearm for none to see; his stance crouched low and ready.

Dean was prepared to kick ass or die trying.

The hunter stalked looking for any sign of a bitch with a death wish. He breathed in sharply exhaling with precision. The family business could not be bred out with a white picket fence and a pretty angel.

Sam and Gabriel forked out from Dean checking the left and right for signs of the Goddess’ cavern. If remains were the game than, dammit, remains would remain. Unsteady nerves attempted to ponder little on the small things.

Or more clearly -

What if we don't find anything?

The archangel swallowed audibly; Sam's throat clicked. Dean remained silent, breathing in and out, repeat, in and out, repeat. He hunted with the keenness of purgatory, the predatory aura of a monster.

They'd come so far - nothing could stop them now.

Sam waved the hunter-angel pair over with crooked fingers. Dean swooped down near his brother nearly gagging.

Small bones laid scattered; dull white bursts against deep green. A small circle of twigs framed the obviously infant remains; charred with past rituals. Gabriel scoped further ahead locating an entrance leading underground.

With the now considered difficult part over the trio fell back ready to plan and strike. Dean only hoped they weren't too late

_Castiel Winchester your chariot awaits_ ; Dean spoke softly through the bond. The somber hum that came with being so near Castiel erupted. Excitement shot like electricity through his body from the point in his core he and the angel were connected.

_Dean, I can feel your proximity_ ; Castiel's gravel like voice brought a smile to the hunter's face. He knew relief was flooding into Castiel from his side of the bond and felt calm warmth bleed back.

_You're my angel and I intend to lay claim to that_ ; Dean knew rage was flowing into Castiel from his side of the connection but could not find the strength to care. Never again, he vowed.

_I have been thinking of baby names with my cellmate_ ; Castiel shone with joy. He had wanted for so long to discuss familial topics with the hunter, _I am thinking of something with an… M._

_Whatever you want, Angel_ ; Dean beamed. If Cas was talking about the baby that meant it still had a chance.

_I love you_ ; tranquility flowed into him from Castiel calming any jittering nerves.

_I miss you_ ; Dean whispered through the bond. Castiel slowly retracted his link. Dean wished he could have stayed longer but understood the pressing matters of a soon to be dead bitch.

Dean sauntered away from Baby, a bag of weapons in tote. Despite the agreement on waiting until midday, Dean found himself restless and irritable. He was so close he could taste it.

"What's the news, Dean-o? You look like you just won the lotto," Gabriel drawled leaning against Sam. His small stature made him a twig against his gigantic brother but his golden eyes reflected ancient power.

Dean smirked - candy apple eyes glinting maliciously, "We've got us an angel to catch," Sam huffed at his response wrapping a long arm around Gabriel's broad shoulders, " How do you know? We've yet to step in there and find Cas for ourselves."

The hunter in accusation lifted his hands up and chuckled shaking his head. Gabe's eyes widened and jaw dropped before he pointed a taut finger in Dean's face, "You did not."

"Did not what?" Sam asked flustered by the archangel's attack.

"Oh you did! I'm going to tear your dick off and make sure you never, ever step a foot near my poor brother again. Dean you li-"

"Gabriel! What did he do?" Sam growled this time, laying a heavy hand on Gabe's shoulder.

"Bonded with my brother!"

Sam dropped his arm with a small oh; not quite understanding the meaning of the four word sentence but understanding it meant something personal.

"Guilty as charged."

* * *

 

Exhilaration, euphoria, exultation; Dean felt the spectrum of war like emotions before the battle even began. His muscles tightened as he passed through intricately designed hallways and tastefully decorated rooms. His eyes focused ahead managing to carry him on instinct rather than sight.

He could tell which halls had been recently used; could tell which were most traveled and which hadn't seen a body in years. The tang of blood wafted in the air choking his lungs as he followed the trails of dust through the home.

Sam and Gabriel searched branching halls. If Dean was wrong in his path they were prepared to correct him but refused to leave his back opened.

A horrible cackling erupted through the silent halls, "Men? Men, in my household? What dire mistake you have made."

Dean growled, feral, at the elder voice. Amber eyes flashed in his mind as he saw red, "Come out and fight you son-of-a-bitch!"

"Son? Why, no," she crooned, "I am a God; revel in fear." A hiss filled the air. A snake of animosity that suffocated the hunters plus angel in a vice grip.

"You're no God, he's out of the picture," Dean ground out. "You're nothing but a thief and a coward."

The self-proclaimed God wailed in anger, "Your angel bitch didn't say so when I ripped him apart." Dean snarled - lips pulled tight to reveal teeth white as snow but tough as steel. The presence of the voice seemed to vanish almost immediately.

Dean rushed forward seething in rage at the lingering words. A foul taste nestled in the back of his throat.

She knew they were coming. The bitch knew.

Cas could be dead by now. She could have destroyed his only chance of happiness because he had to play the hero. He always had to rush in to the domain of another and ruin the hunt.

He attempted to reach Castiel through the bond. Sent broken 'I love you's' and somber notes of panic to the angel in hopes of an answering "Relax, I've only shut my eyes to rest, Dean," but received nothing. A void replaced his heart.

He stood before a solid steel door, a slider indicated food slipped through now and again. A prison cell.

Static collected in his gut where Castiel used to be. He placed a hand against the door. Air collected in his chest and pushed against the fragile bone. He nudged against cool metal. Clouds filled his head; empty now asides the ever present pessimism. He stepped into a small room.

Blood stained handcuffs laid cold and forgotten near a flimsy cot.

Torn clothing piled in a corner farthest from the makeshift bed.

Bits of forgotten food collected in various parts of the room.

Dean fingered a hole in the wall; obviously created by a hard punch. He attempted to see the brighter side of the circumstance; this may have not been Castiel's room, if it was he put up a fight, he was fed, he had just fucking spoke to him.

"Looking for this?" Dean slowly spun around, taking small steps to be level with his brother and Gabriel. A woman, grey and elderly stood before the hunters with a chain in hand. She yanked hard enough for the intimidating metal to clank, pulling an object forward.

"Cas-"

"No touching," she commanded, "stay where you are."

Sam raised a gun aiming directly at the woman's head, "I am Lamashtu and you are my pawn."

Dean narrowed his eyes, inspecting Castiel from afar. The angel, heavily pregnant, malnourished, and sleep deprived seemed to have no physical abuse marring olive skin. Castiel mouthed he was alright, a signal to Dean to stop jacking around.

"Give us the angel and we won't shoot,” Sam grit out. Lamashtu shook her head, dropping the heavy chain and lunging at Sam. The tall man barely escaped a claw to the face as Gabriel slammed into the goddess's side.

Dean rushed toward Castiel; ready to set him free and get the pregnant angel away from danger.

Lamashtu reared her head at the hunter. She flicked her wrist sending Dean crashing into the rusted handcuffs. The cuffs drove into his back sending sharp pain up his spine. He huffed a breath of pain before staggering toward Lamashtu.

"I'm going to kill you for that. I'm going to burn your skin off patch by patch until you're char for taking my angel. I'm going to slowly peel the ash of your body away with my knife for any harm to my child. You're going to wish you'd never even looked at Castiel."

Lamashtu leered at Dean, extending her arm as though it were a dagger and rushing toward the hunter, "Burn in hell," she screeched when he deflected the attack aimed at his heart to the soft skin of his stomach.

He clutched the open gash, panting, "Been there, done that. Get original, bitch," his baritone voice lowered to a whisper. The blond snatched the goddess’ wrist, pushing until he heard the distinct snap. She gasped in pain distracted as he swiped his knife down her arm.

Gabriel rushed toward his brother while the hunters did what they had perfected years ago, "You alright?"

"Yes, I will be fine Gabriel. Help the Winchesters please" Castiel's gravelly voice pleaded pitifully, "They need it more than I."

"No way!" He protested clutching the other angel's rough tunic. Castiel gave him a firm stare before the archangel rose, knife in hand, to help the Winchester brother's.

Gabriel felt a sticky wetness erupt over his shoulder as something punctured the skin. Sam laid impaled by his own knife against the far wall. Dean kneeled in his own pity and blood between the two.

Lamashtu waltzed forward, an angel blade clutched between her talons. She lowered the glinting silver knife leveled to the angel’s heart, roughly grabbing dark, tousled locks with the other.

Castiel swallowed thickly; the blade seemed to move slowly toward him as he said his prayers.

Bright, hot light flared. Filling the room; banishing any trace of shadows.

A caterwaul filled the room; red rimmed eyes scrunching freckled cheeks as the storm clattered from above.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize for the rather short update. I am harboring the worst hangover in the history of my drinking career and have no will to write. But, I owe this to everyone for the cliffhanger last chapter. Really. 
> 
> This chapter also finds itself unbeta'd, let me know ASAP if any mistakes are found.
> 
> EDIT 5/10/14: Yes, I am now considering this fic complete. I don't find it feasible to update considering I have lost where I was going with the story back in August on top of how blatantly horrible I consider my writing for this one in particular piece plus how easy it is to end it here. I'm sure orphaning the fiction itself will become a very real outcome

Death settled into the air; a weight of somber immobility that freezes the body in pounds of ice. A sort of betrayal that comes with beating death at every corner.

 Dean lunged before he could fully process the situation. Anger fueling adrenaline fueling strength that drove the hunter into a frenzy.

 A sputtered cough, wet with blood and spittle, sounded from a limp body; Dean seized mid stab. Red frayed at the edges of his vision, mind clearing if barely. Finger's wrapping around blade menacingly notwithstanding. His knees buckled as he dropped to the floor. Lamashtu stood shoulders tense, a broken wheeze breaking her stunned silence. A fit erupted. Dean listened attentively to the hacking. Hacking meant life. He could deal with life.

 His heart sped, a track star at the end of a dash, when a boisterous whooping sound ended the coughing fit followed by silence.

 Dead silence.

 The type of silence that could only fill a room when breath is being held or there is no breath to hold. He’d know. He’d been in that boat one to many times. Captaining it at some points in life.

 A clawing gasp lifted the tension of the room. Gabriel, most likely. Dean heard rustling followed by a soft _shh_ that could only be Sam attempting to console the rage of an archangel. It was a small room after all. Dean wanted to gasp as well; to warrant the attention of those surrounding him. To bring the focus solely on him and have that selfishness that came with _watching your angel and child die right before your eyes. What the actual fuck, I was supposed to save them._

 He could not quell the spike of hot _hatred_ that comes naturally to the hunter when it comes to himself. Dean stood on wobbly legs, staggering toward his brother’s comfort and Gabriel’s power.

Lamashtu kept her back to the trio. She won. She kinged what they came for. The game was done, board could be cleared. The goddess had no more reason to _fuck_ with the human’s she just _ruined_ for the rest of their lives.

 A low growl, feral but trained tore from the creature as Dean neared his party. Pitiful and shrill, a whine quickly trailed as the growl tapered until it ceased. Lamashtu released another strangely desperate howl of a whine.

Dean changed course, puzzled by the depressing cry of someone who just got what they wanted. Despite the hunter's frazzled state of mind the recognition of, ' _Not Ca_ s' made his body sag. His angel was there, covered in blood and soot and tears. He lacked the very distinct signs of burnt wings to every object in sight and black abysses for eyes that marred angel ganking.

 The bloodied boy in front of him, however, had all the signs of someone who was not getting up in the morning. Green eyes rolled to the back of a small skull, pale hands clenched at  wound that forced entry between his ribs, his lips lay parted in a silent word never going to be heard.

 “Huh-h-ee,” Castiel choked on his own anxiety, the lump in his throat swelled; his eyes burned, “He took his life to save me and the baby,” Dean reached across Lamashtu, stepping in front of her separating the goddess from the angel, to card a hand through the his  thick hair. The goddess did not attempt to stop the hunter, barely acknowledged his new position with Castiel buried in his arms. Her eyes, worn and wet, trained solely on Jesse’s lifeless form.

 Lamashtu bent to mutter in the ear of the Antichrist, that same guttural language falling easily from her tongue. Dean wrapped a possessive arm carefully around Castiel’s pregnancy bump as she stood with lips curled back over her teeth, “You’re no longer pure,” she spat at the angel; “None of you! _NoneofyouNoneofyouNoneofyou_ ,” Lamashtu chanted to no one.

 Dean grimaced. The goddess was at the brink of insanity thanks to the loss of someone she held dear. The hunter faced the same waning madness after the bitch took his angel and baby.

 He wanted to make her suffer.

The goddess made a show of a sticky gagging noise like something suddenly obstructed her airways cutting her off mid chant. Dean raised an eyebrow at her, expecting her to have decided to finish the job.

 Instead she drops like a fly, landing with a thud across Jesse’s legs.

 Dean continued to stare, eyebrow raised at Sam. Sam who had his hunting knife drawn. With fresh blood on it. Sam’s chest heaved even as he put the blade back in its holster.  Gabriel laid a small hand on his shoulder, but he only calmed slightly. Both of them looked  toward Dean, who glared levelly back. They most likely realized his intentions, ending her life before he could lay a fingernail on her.

_Son-of-a-bitch._

* * *

* * *

Dean is sure that at thirty-eight weeks Castiel should not have to pee this often. Even with the whole PTSD thing about not being able to pee when he pleased.

He is also sure that the baby should be due any second of any waking moment or non-waking moment. But he’s not going to tell Castiel that. Because Castiel will worry. Worrying means a call to to Gabriel. Gabriel means a migraine Dean does not want to have to deal with if he can help it. Three weeks without the trickster of an archangel was not enough to get over the several he spent with him trying to capture his brother back. 

On top of that he and Sam have discovered the honeymooner's stage of life. Having the two of them viciously make out in your general vicinity is not as hot as it sounds. Maybe it is because it is his brother and brother-in-law but still.

Gross.

Castiel emerged out of bathroom looking paler than normal, but could be worse. With the integrity and preservation that only comes with being a Winchester, Dean had gotten the angel back to nourishment for their very half human unborn child. The healthy plumpness of his angel led to terrific pregnancy sex he had not even realized he was missing.

And the discovery for a wing kink.

At first, Castiel had claimed the appearance of his wings was solely a stress related issue. That was before the angel had found himself riding out Dean’s orgasm, hands splayed across the hunter’s chest as thighs worked to bring himself over the edge when there they appeared. White tipped black extremities that brushed over the sensitive skin of Dean’s balls just as his angel hitched out his own orgasm.

Dean proceeded to spend several hours carding his fingers through those very feathers. And may or may not have used them to give himself a wing job, once.

Or twice.

Or three times plus that almost fatal time his knife like war feathers brushed very close to Dean’s Johnson.

All in all, the return from psychotic bitch from hell’s dungeon seemed to positively influence both their love life and greatly influenced their sex life. _Greatly_.

Castiel draped himself over Dean’s back the best he could with his bump in the way, “What are you thinking about Dean? You have that glint in your eye.” Dean laughed softly, turning around to kiss his angel.

“Just thinking about you babe,” he answered honestly because he was. Just not in a purely innocent way.

He could say he is _not pure_.

Dean snorted at his own inner workings. Castiel leaned up to peck the hunter’s lips again, speaking hotely against them as slowly pulled away, “Well, why you are thinking about me can you please make me something to eat. The young one would greatly like goldfish crackers and strawberry ice cream. Preferably together. Mashed together,” he seemed to consider his own request, “Yeah, that sounds wonderful,” Castiel smiled brightly, sauntering upstairs to the sitting room. Barefoot and gorgeous.

He grinned, slowly before all at once.

Because yeah, that did sound wonderful.


End file.
